The Holy Isle of... Trouble?
by Gaiden
Summary: The mystical Holy Isle of Avalon decides to stick it's meddlesome fingers into the Harry's life. A priestess of great powers 'guards' him. Is she good? Or is she leading him into a trap built by the Lady of the Lake? R/Hr & H/OC
1. Trip to Bulgaria

Disclaimer: 

I do not pretend to own the Harry Potter world or any character within it: that right belongs to the eminent J. K. Rowling, to whom I most respectfully yield. 

Neither do I pretend to be an expert on the early legends of King Arthur and the fabled Isle of Avalon. They belong to posterity and my imagination. 

If, in writing, I offend someone, I apologize, but stand by my opinions. I write this solely for my own amusement and for the appreciation of my audience. 

I have no money, don't sue me, I'm not worth it, and there are bigger fish to fry.

Chapter Two

The summer, for Harry Potter the magical Boy-Who-Lived, started out as any summer ever had; with the Dursley's: his Aunt Petunia, Uncle Vernon and their scummy child Dudley. This year was slightly different; they had ceased treating him as though he wasn't there, and begun actively picking on his choice of lifestyle, as if he could help being a wizard, and on his friends. 

"So what kind of girls become witches anyway, Harry Pooper, I bet all the girls at your school have big ugly warts on their nose and cackle like crows!" 

Dudley's latest taunt was sheer spite; he had no way of knowing anything about the girls at Hogwarts. Not that they did have warts or anything, Harry thought quickly of Cho Chang, and his stomach did its familiar flip. Some of them most definitely didn't have anything wrong with them whatsoever.

Point in case, Ron, one of his very best friends in the wizarding world, was likely head over heels enamoured with Hermione, his other best friend in the wizarding world, and had absolutely no clue about what to do with it at all. Harry had been the unfortunate recipient of letter after letter from Ron about Hermione all summer long. In return he'd also been the recipient of letter after letter from Hermione about Ron all summer long.

Who'd of thought a simple trip to Bulgaria would have created such fuss?

If you are Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger, then Bulgaria may well be the front lines of some sort of horrific battle for all the paper they used up worrying over it. Viktor Krum, the legendary, famous, and young Quidditch player, had invited Hermione over to his home, Bulgaria, because he was fond of her. Hermione accepted, because she liked him as well, and to Ron she may well have accepted a dance with the devil.

Owl after owl flew between Bulgarian airspace and Britain, Harry once fancied that the RAF likely had spotted the owls on radar through sheer volume.  Harry feared, at one point that the friendship between Ron and Hermione wouldn't last the week as insult after accusation flew past each other. 

In the end, the weeklong vacation in Europe closed with as little fuss as the leftover remains of a firecracker falling to earth. Hermione simply returned home and Ron just quit talking to Harry about her. When he'd received the owl, from Hermione, saying that the traditional meeting-before-school-starts was at her place this time, he'd simply packed and waited for the Weasleys to pick him up.

He was in an agony of anticipation, after last year's little accident with the Floo Powder, Harry had no idea how the Weasley's were planning on showing up. That and the fact that he had no idea what Hermione said to Ron to get him to shut up the way he had. At five o'clock sharp two weeks before the September the first departure of the Hogwarts Express, someone knocked on the door. 

Uncle Vernon threw it open, expecting it to be Arthur Weasley, Molly Weasley or any combination of the two, but was instead greeted by a pretty girl with bushy brown hair, cinnamon eyes, and wearing the omnipresent jeans and a jumper (sweater) that half the population of Muggle Britain wore on a regular basis. 

"Hello, you must be Harry's Uncle Vernon. Is he ready to go?"

Harry, recognising instantly the voice of his friend Hermione, jumped off the stairs where he'd been perched, half ready to run up and hide, half ready to sprint down to escape. "Hermione! What are you doing here?"

"Picking you up! Isn't it obvious?" she retorted, "After all we're meeting at my place aren't we? Are you ready?"

"Yes, I am," he gestured back to his packed trunk, and Hedwig, his owl, "Do you want the trunk or the cage?"

"The cage," she said brightly, "Hedwig's easier to lift." he pulled the trunk down the front stairs, wondering at the absurdity of it all. Mr. Granger, a man he'd met once in Diagon Alley, turned off the motor and helped him get the trunk into the boot of the car.

Looking back at the massed and astonished Dursley's Harry could see that this was not what they had in mind for a pickup. They were expecting blasting walls, oddly dressed people, and magical mumbo-jumbo, not an ordinary car, a middle aged Dad, and a pretty young woman. For pretty is what Hermione had become. Her hair, while still bushy, had calmed down somewhat over the summer, the reduction of her front teeth was more noticeable than ever, and she certainly filled out that jumper more than she had in previous years. She had definitely become pretty, in a curvy sort of petite kind of way. 

"Good day then," Mr. Granger smiled cheerfully and waved, "Harry'll see you next term." As if he hadn't really been expecting an answer, which he likely had not, he opened the passenger door for Hermione, hopped in the car, gunned the engine, and took off. Leaving a very bewildered family of Dursley's on the front step, gaping.  

Hermione waited until they were out of sight of Privet Drive, before bursting into a fit of suppressed giggles. "I guess that wasn't what they expected was it, Harry?"

Seeing now that she'd planned the meeting up to her usual standards of aplomb, Harry burst out laughing, holding on to Hedwig's cage to keep balance. "No blasting walls, no flying car, no robes or wands. Certainly not!"

"Well," Mr. Granger said smilingly, "Have we set you off right then, lad?"

"They never knew what hit them" Harry grinned. 

"Good" the man said, satisfied that his daughter's plan to liberate Harry and upset the Dursley's had gone off without a hitch, "We're very glad to have you, Harry."

"I was glad to be invited, but tell me, where is your house Hermione?"

"Oh we're not going to my house;" she said offhand, "Mum's rented a boathouse near Bath for the next two weeks. Mr. Weasley had it hooked up to the Floo Network, temporarily, so we only had to pick you up. Ron and the others are coming by Floo."

Marvelling at Hermione's usual efficiency and forethought, he grinned, "I'll bet Mr. Weasley is going to have a blast playing with his plugs and all."

"Half the fun, isn't it?" Hermione shot him a grin over the headrest of her chair. "Get comfortable Harry, there's no invisibility booster or rockets in this car, just good old fashioned muggle transport."

"Amen," said her father, he had the same wavy, chestnutty, hair Hermione did, though not quite as bushy. "Scares the way some of those wizards get about"

"Scares me too, sometimes," Harry admitted.

The boathouse was a lot more fun than Harry though it would be. He was greeted at the door by Mrs. Granger, an attractive, fit, and very not-so-motherly-looking sort with Hermione's cinnamon eyes, by her dog, a big German Shepard named David, and by Crookshanks, the insane ginger cat. Almost as soon as he'd got his trunk to the room he'd be sharing with Ron, Fred, and George the fire in the empty fireplace lit and the whole Weasley gang tumbled down the chimney.

Dinner was a noisy, messy affair. Mrs. Weasley brought her wand and conjured up as delectable a feast as had ever been served. A few of Dr. Fillibusters No-Heat Wet-Start fireworks set the tone, and had the big dog running around and barking at the everlasting sparkles for an hour at least.         

 After tumbling down into the first set of bunk beds with Ron, he listened to Fred and George tumble in the ones set on the other wall. Hermione and Ginny had the sleeper couch in the living room, her parents the double bed in the other bedroom upstairs. Almost as soon as he shut his eyes, morning came and he was shaken awake by Ron, who clamoured that all the bacon would be gone if he didn't hurry. 

The weeks flew by. In addition to the house, the Grangers had rented a small boat which Fred and George and Mr. Granger could barely be persuaded to leave. They spent half their time letting down traps and lines and whatnot and the other half eating whatever it was they caught. Hermione, Ginny, and Mrs. Granger put on some power shoes and did some serious shopping in the storefronts nearby, giggling madly at whatever it was girls talked about amongst themselves when alone. 

This left him and Ron to be beachcombers, rock castle builders, and general lay-around-the-house and do nothing kind of people. They played chess, sometimes, with Hermione and one of her books curled up in one of the chairs nearby, commenting absently on the game.

It was as if they were back at Hogwarts, Ron and Harry playing chess and Hermione talking, absently, through her homework. It was as if the excited flurry of owls and insults had never been exchanged. It was just like old times, with one small detail: Ron and Hermione never argued. They danced in diplomatic circles around each other, with a ruthlessly maintained politeness that fooled no one. The hissing, spitting, knock-down-and-drag-'em-out kind of argument that Ron and Hermione had perfected, were conspicuously absent. 

Or at least they were until the clambake.

Harry could never remember how the fight had started; he just remembered digging the pit for the fire that would slowly roast the large bags of clams they'd bought at market. Dinner had been over, the bugs humming, the ocean waves crashing, and to all intents and purposes life had been perfect. Until some snide remark or sly comment had sent the pair of them over the edge, literally. 

Hermione leaped up to her feet, hands on her newly acquired hips, shouting herself hoarse, while Ron, all six foot of tanned Weasley, screamed himself red in the face. Half of it Harry couldn't have understood, it being shouted at unholy decibel levels, and the other half was garbled by interruption and flying spit. 

Somewhere along the line Hermione took a swing at Ron, getting him full across the face, he grabbed her shoulders and shook her like a doll, that's when Mr. Granger got up to break them out of it. Or at least he tried. Somehow they ended up rolling together, kicking and clawing, right up the dockside, right over the embankment, and right into the ocean.    

It took twenty minutes to get the two of them, fully dressed, out of the water. Sopping wet they stood on the dock, side by side glaring, until Hermione started giggling madly. Ron gave her a dirty look and made as if to shake her again, but his saltwater soaked jumper held him down. Looking down at his clothes and the absurdity of it all, he too started to laugh. Hysterically they both, dripping wet and shivering, laughed until their sides hurt and tears started to fall. Ron held out his soggy arms, and pulled Hermione into a salty embrace.  

The next day Mrs. Weasley popped in by Floo, she'd picked up all of the children's school supplies in the weeks before. They hopped, skipped, and jumped their way to Platform 9 ¾ at Kings Cross in London and submitted to the ritual kissing and hugging before the train was scheduled to leave. 


	2. An Unexpected Guest

Disclaimer: 

I do not pretend to own the Harry Potter world or any character within it: that right belongs to the eminent J. K. Rowling, to whom I most respectfully yield. 

Neither do I pretend to be an expert on the early legends of King Arthur and the fabled Isle of Avalon. They belong to posterity and my imagination. 

If, in writing, I offend someone, I apologize, but stand by my opinions. I write this solely for my own amusement and for the appreciation of my audience. 

I have no money, don't sue me, I'm not worth it, and there are bigger fish to fry.

Chapter One

"Excuse me, is this seat taken?" 

Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, and Hermione Granger looked up from their heated discussion of Quidditch and the merits thereof, Hermione arguing that it really was just a game and the two boys insisting that it was indeed more then a simple game, but a way of life. They were on the Hogwarts Express, steaming their way into the Scottish Highlands, for another year at the Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Looking up, they assessed the newcomer. She was, most definitively, not a student of Hogwarts. The robe alone, a pure living white, gave that away. Besides her apparel, her face was quite unfamiliar. As fifth year students they recognized most, if not all, of the students, excepting the new first years, and of those she was not. 

"No it's not taken," Harry said, always the gentleman, "Please sit down."

"Thank you," she smiled, brilliantly, transforming her rather strong features into rather pretty ones. "You don't know me, but your faces are well known to the world. I am called, Anna."

"Hermione Granger," said the only other girl in the compartment. "You're from Avalon aren't you? I recognise the habit."

"I was told that you're a clever witch Hermione," Anna gave to her the same brilliant smile she'd given Harry, "I'm glad not to be disappointed."

"You mean Avalon like King Arthur and Merlin and all that?" Ron, the youngest boy of all the redheaded Weasley's asked.

"That was a long time ago, but yes." Anna laughed, "I told Lady Raven we should have worn black. White in this school is like wearing a sign saying 'look at me'." 

"Beg your pardon, but what are you doing here?" Harry asked, puzzled, "They taught us the priestess of Avalon rarely leave the island."

"Firstly, I'm not a priestess, simply a student, and secondly" she shrugged, "I'm sure you're very much aware that Hogwarts has had some hard times procuring a Defence Against the Dark Arts instructor after the debacle with the Triwizard Tournament last year." All of them nodded, reminded of the drama, the death, and the Dark Lord Voldemort's promised return, "Your headmaster, Dumbledore, asked Avalon if we could be of service. Our Lady of the Lake consulted the omens, and has allowed a coven of us to come out to Hogwarts for the year to instruct."

" 'Need shall match need and in times of trouble shall arise.." Hermione began to say.

"…Powers of purity the Goddess of good will provide / to protect her Holy Isle and force evil's demise." Anna recited, from rote, eyes closed. "You're very well versed in Druidic lore, Hermione."

"It was part of our History of Magic homework over the summer. We had to write essays on the changing face of Avalon over the ages." Harry said, "They knew you were coming, then?"

"I don't know, possibly, probably," Anna shrugged, fluidly, silk sliding over silk as her robe swished softly, "Far be for me to second guess the Lady of the Lake." 

"But what are you doing here?" Ron asked, "Aren't there other people she could bother?"

"Ron!" Hermione exclaimed, but Anna just grinned sheepishly. 

"Don't, he has a point. I was ordered by your Lady McGonagall and my Lady Raven to keep company with you this year. Apparently they think that the Lord Voldemort will be after all of you again and frankly I don't doubt them." 

She spoke matter-of-factly, with a strong Scottish accent. It was somewhat of an anachronism, for historically Avalon was reported to be located off the coast of Wales, and not Scotland. 

Silence filled the compartment, not only had she said You-Know-Who's name, something few wizards or witches ever did if they could possibly help it, but she treated the situation as though Voldemort was after Harry and the others to give them a gift of some kind and not kill them horribly, enslave their friends, and turn their school into a bastion for the Dark Arts. 

"_You are supposed to protect __us?" Ron asked, incredulous._

"Yes," she agreed cheerfully, wide blue eyes twinkling, "Although from what I hear it may well be you who ends up protecting me when the fur starts to fly." She stroked the aforementioned fur of Crookshanks, Hermione's cat, companionably as he kneaded his paws on her lap and purred.

"We've all heard that people of Avalon are good, but nobody's that powerful except maybe Dumbledore." Hermione declared authoritatively, "You're hardly as old as the rest of us, and you just said that you were still a student. What are you supposed to do that the rest of us can't?"

Anna didn't respond verbally, but suddenly an overwhelming sense of power began to fill the room. Her outline blurred, like the ground blurs on a hot day when heat rises and stirs the outline of the pavement. A screaming howl of wind whistled by their compartment, and the air seemed to pulse, pregnant with waiting. Opening her blue eyes, they were backlit with a glow all their own, like a cat caught by a flashlight. She spoke then, her voice sounding as though a hundred people were chanting her words at the same time "I hold the power of Avalon for my Lady of the Lake."

All of a sudden the feeling evaporated, her voice returned to normal, and the wind stopped howling. She shuddered slightly; Harry could feel her trembling softly for she was seated on the same bench as he.

"Wow!" Ron exclaimed, pale, but excited "That was scary."

"Yes," Anna replied evenly, outwardly unruffled, but still shaking slightly. "It was. That is the reason why Avalon ruled Britain for as long as we did. I am what has been called a Morgan, a conduit for the combined powers of all of Avalon at once. As far as has been recorded in the history of the Holy Isle, which is extraordinarily extensive, I assure you, no one person or group has ever been able to challenge the sheer power of Avalon united as one. It is my duty to stand between you and the powers of darkness. So as it is my duty, I will die for you, if it comes to that."

"Why?" asked Harry, confused and troubled. Too many people had died already at Voldemort's hands, his parents, for one, Cedric Diggory, and more witches and wizards beyond his counting. "Why am I so important? Why does he want me?" 

"You've asked that question before haven't you Harry?" Anna said softly, "Do you expect any more answer now than you received before?"

Harry's mind jumped back to the end of his first year at Hogwarts, having just woken up from protecting the Sorcerer's Stone from the combined efforts of then-Professor Quirrell and Voldemort himself, who'd possessed the teacher bodily. Dumbledore had simply refused to answer, saying he was too young to understand fully. 

"That was a long time ago," Harry argued stubbornly, "I think I'm entitled to answer now." Anna sighed, again, unhappily, but obliged him with an answer.

"Do you believe in fate, Harry Potter?"

"That we're destined to do something?"

"Not quite," Anna settled Crookshanks on her pristine white robes, heedless of the ginger cat hairs that floated from his purring body. "Do you believe that we are destined to play a role in this world that has been played out before in times prior this one?"

"Like reincarnation or something?"

"Sort of," she sifted the cat's weight, "Evil is archetypical, Harry, that is what we of Avalon believe. No matter the face or the form, each age has its epic struggle between what is right and good and what is not. All the same elements are present, even if they all aren't used or found. A face for evil and a face for good are always defined. The man known as Voldemort is the face of evil in this cycle."

"And I'm the face of good?" Harry asked. 

"You never heard it from me, for as a daughter of Avalon I'm not allowed to divulge the secrets of my Lady of the Lake, but if you were to get the impression that the powers that be consider you to be so, I wouldn't dissuade you of that impression." Anna said delicately. 

Bottle green met with sky blue and Harry understood what she was saying. He was destined to face the Dark Lord and, if possible, defeat him. 

"What took you so long?"

She shrugged, "Missed the train the first few times 'round" 

Harry grinned, amused at her flippant response, and happy that someone had finally confirmed what he'd always suspected. He wasn't a child anymore, the past few years had robbed him of that, and knowing what people expected of him was better than stumbling around blindly. 

"So if Harry is the force of good, what is everybody else worrying about? Why can't we just find You-Know-Who and end it now?" Ron asked.

"All the elements aren't there yet, are they?" Hermione realized, "We have to wait until everything is set." 

"And in the process danger is always present," Anna acknowledged, "Voldemort knows the cycle as well, he wants to be rid of Harry before the point of no return comes. If he does, then evil will win without the presence of good. We need to keep you alive." She addressed Harry, "I am to you what Morgan le Fey and Merlin were to Arthur, Avalon will fight at your side through me."

Harry shook his head, trying to absorb all of the information she'd given him at once. "Ohhh…"

Anna sighed, a little chagrined, "I really didn't mean to get into all this pseudo-mystical crap right now. I'm just supposed to stay with you, be friends if you'd allow it. I wasn't supposed to explain all of this to people who've never been initiated to the mysteries." 

She looked about the compartment, at their faces, feeling a bit guilty, "Don't hold it against me, I just learnt of what we were up to on the trip here. It makes a whole lot more sense if you were raised listening to The Mother talking about fate and destiny and all that shit." 

She hung her head, black curls obscuring her eyes, "Beyond what I just told you, Dumbledore took the time to explain to me the events of the past couple years, most of which we'd already gotten on Avalon. I'm as confused as you are about what precisely they want me to do about it, I think you've managed brilliantly all by yourselves, but nevertheless I go where my Lady commands and as she orders so am I here." Silence fell again on the compartment, punctuated by the sounds of a train moving at full speed and the compliment of passengers talking and laughing, not contemplating death and their place in the universe. 

"Do you play Quidditch?" Ron asked suddenly, "We're having the devil of a time trying to convince Hermione it's worthwhile."

"I said it was ok. For a _game. It's not like the world revolves around Qudditch." Hermione sassed back, "There are other things in life."_

"Far be it for me to argue a lady. I play Keeper for my squad, and though it's a lovely game, there are other things in my life." Anna scratched a purring Crookshanks under his chin. 

"Barking" Ron exclaimed, "Harry, honestly, help me out here."

Harry paused in his introspection; the sun outside the compartment was shining, he was heading to school with all of his friends and none of the Dursley's, and the girl sitting next to him was giving him a brilliant smile and was pretty as well as intelligent. Who cared about fate and the Dark Forces on such a lovely day?

"Really, c'mon girls…"   


	3. Start of A New Term

Disclaimer: 

I do not pretend to own the Harry Potter world or any character within it: that right belongs to the eminent J. K. Rowling, to whom I most respectfully yield. 

Neither do I pretend to be an expert on the early legends of King Arthur and the fabled Isle of Avalon. They belong to posterity and my imagination. 

If, in writing, I offend someone, I apologize, but stand by my opinions. I write this solely for my own amusement and for the appreciation of my audience. 

I have no money, don't sue me, I'm not worth it, and there are bigger fish to fry.

Chapter Three

It was a sunny day as the Hogwarts Express pulled in to the Hogsmeade station. If it wasn't for Anna getting strange looks as they walked towards the coaches to be pulled to the castle, it would have been as picture perfect as the day could be. Hagrid wasn't shy though; he walked right up to Anna, in her pristine white robes, and grabbed her into a swinging hug.

"You comin' to be Sorted wit' th' rest of the firs' years?" as he spoke he herded the shy first years into the requisite boats for their trip across the lake. 

"Aye, thank ye, but no Hagrid, I'm staying with Harry, you know that." She was short enough that she couldn't quite hold her own against Hagrid's enthusiasm and swayed, feet slightly off the ground, as he moved.  

"Harry!" he called out, picking up Anna by the shoulders, "Keep ye're eye out for this one, lad.  Mad as a hatter, this one. She'll keep ye crazy all year." He put her back down with a thump and gave her what was likely a very whiskery kiss right on the top of her head.  "Firs' years! Firs' years, follow me!"

"You know Hagrid?" Ron asked, as Anna swished into the coach, just as it was taking off for the castle. 

"Aye," she grinned fondly, "Me and Hagrid and Lupin, and…um, Snuffles," she gave them all a significant look that told them she was well aware of 'Snuffles' true identity, as Harry's godfather, the escaped criminal, Sirus Black, "spent the summer with the Lady Raven and the rest, getting all of this, stuff,  together." 

"Getting what together?"

"Lesson plans, assignments, projects, exams, in other words everything you need to run a class of, oh let's say, a thousand or so students."

"I thought you were going to be a student." Hermione said. 

"I am," she grinned, "In everything but Defence Against the Dark Arts."

"Why?" asked Harry, curious.

"You'll see." Anna grinned, and suddenly her eyes went wide, "Wow, that's one heck of a castle." Hogwarts, the best magical school for Witchcraft and Wizardry in the world, came into view. The coaches stopped, let out their passengers, and Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Anna all bundled into the Great Hall. As was tradition the first years all paraded to the top dais to be Sorted. Professor McGonagall brought out the frayed and patched Sorting Hat, placed it on the three legged stool, and the rip in its brim opened to sing:

_A thousand hundred years ago, when Hogwarts was brand new  _

_Two wizards and two witches looked out upon the crew_

_Of students and their teachers, gathered at their feet_

_Waiting, watching, wondering, their deepest needs to meet_

_Some belonged with Griffindor, to whom courage rang true_

_If you are brave and daring, then Griffindor's for you! _

_Others went with Hufflepuff, where tenacity is king_

_If you work hard and do not shirk, then Hufflepuff's your thing!_

_Ravencalw__ for her own, gathered the most smart_

_Cleverness and ingenuity are Ravenclaw's true heart!_

_Wise old Salazar Slytherin gathered to his chest_

_Those for whom ambition makes the very best_

_ They are gone; their names remain, as houses that do teach_

_The same ideals and values the founders themselves preached_

_Try me on, do not be shy, I neither bite nor hit_

_But I will tell, without a doubt, for which house you are fit!_

The gathered students clapped, but the applause died as one by one the new first years were Sorted into their houses. Anna watched, apparently very impressed at the performance of the Sorting Hat. 

Sitting next to Harry, she leaned over and whispered, during a lull in the applause "Is it ever wrong? Do people ever get miss-Sorted?" she looked curious and slightly anxious. 

"Not that I've ever heard," Harry whispered back, "The Hat's always been right." Even if we don't think so, Harry thought guiltily of his second year fit of doubt during the crisis with the Chamber of Secrets. After the Sorting had been completed, Dumbledore stood to make his traditional beginning of term speech.

 "Welcome! I trust you've forgotten everything over the summer in order to make room for the wonders of a new term, but first there are, as always, a few beginning of term notices that need be given."

"All students will be reminded that the Forbidden Forest is off limits to all," Dumbledore gave the Weasley twins, Fred and George, the 'look' "there are a few new items that Mr. Filch has informed me will not be permitted into the dormitories a list of which, I believe, has been posted in the main hall. Let me now draw your attention to our new staff for this year. Students, may I introduce the Lady Raven, high priestess of Avalon." A smattering of applause sounded as she rose from her position at the head of the table to join Dumbledore in front of the gathered student body.

"Greetings," Raven looked like an older version of Anna, jet black hair, sprinkled with grey, white silken robes, and a wide, welcoming smile, "I, as your eminent headmaster as told you, am Lady Raven. I and my associates will be instructing you in the Defence Against the Dark Arts, a class I believe will become extraordinarily important given recent events." She paused, allowing everyone to call to mind the tragedy of last year's Triwizard Tournament. "May I introduce our Druids, who, although accompanying us, do not train on Avalon, but who are very much our brothers: the Lords, Adrian, Dimitri, David, and Gwyilim." The four men could have been cast from the same mould; all were tall, broad, and dressed in the same scarlet tunics and breeches with black capes thrown over their shoulders. 

"And my sisters, the Ladies Rosebriar, Vivian, Wren, and Lark." They appeared, as suddenly as the men had, on Raven's left side. All were dressed in the same eye blindingly white robes, and bowed to their audience. "For the most part these will be your teachers; they will teach only to one house apiece, live in the dormitories and eat at the tables with you. Ask of them what you will, they will tell you truthfully what it means to be of the old order." As if on cue, one druid and one priestess stepped down to sit at the ends of each of the four tables. 

"As for myself and my apprentice," Anna, who Harry suddenly realized was no longer sitting next to him, stepped out from behind her teacher, "We will float about and instruct some and learn some  about the differences of the other disciplines from our own, for as we say on Avalon, there is no one true way. She will be joining you in classes, learning, as is your custom." 

Anna turned to face her teacher and dropped to her knees. The Sorting Hat flew from its stool to Raven's hand, and she began to place it gently on Anna's head. Raven no more lowered it to her hair, than the hat screamed out in its loudest voice yet, 

"GRIFFINDOR!" 

Harry found himself yelling his voice hoarse as Anna walked back to her spot near his side, grinning and blushing slightly at the applause. She swallowed and spoke softly, barely audible in the din, "I didn't mean to set up such a fuss."

"It's not a fuss," Harry grinned, "it a feast!" for while they spoke Dumbledore summoned the feast. Masses of roast beef, Yorkshire pudding, potatoes, and everything else fit for a King appeared on the golden platters. 

"Oh my" Anna exclaimed, "Do you eat like this all the time?"

"Yup" Ron said, mouth full of red potato, "The desserts are good too!"

Anna grinned at Hermione, sitting next to Ron, and Harry on her left "I think I should like staying at Hogwarts." A plate piled high with sausages was passed into her hands by an absent-minded Griffindor, she smiled again, widely, and said "I think I should like it very much indeed." 

Settling into the dormitories, Anna sighed at the four posted draperies on the girly half of the Griffindor tower. Lavender and Parvati were chattering like the little hens they resembled, wondering non-stop about boys, magic, Druids, and anything else that came to mind. Anna leaned out of her bed and whispered to Hermione "Do they always chatter like this?"

"Yes," Hermione rolled her eyes, "They don't barely stop to sleep, and Lavender even talks in her sleep. It's annoying." 

"But you don't." Anna observed, rolling to sit up, her silken nightdress bunching up around her waist. "Not sociable or just not interested?"

"They're brainless, nosy, gits, who don't seem to think of anything even resembling intelligence half the time." Hermione grumbled, "Do you think anyone sane would actually want to do that?"

"You don't," Anna recognized, "you hang about with Harry and Ron, even though all they talk about is Quidditch and chess. Why is that?"

"Because I do," Hermione said defensively, "and I don't see how it's any of your business." She too sat up, letting her eyes flare and temper, kept in check for the first day of term, come bubbling to the surface. 

 "I've read the tales of Avalon, and read between the lines. All of them said to be on guard around a daughter of the holy isle, you've plans and goals of your own that have nothing to do with what the rest of the world wants or needs." The slightly guilty look on Anna's face had Hermione ploughing ahead. 

 "I don't know what you want with Harry, but I'll tell you right now, if I think you're trying to manipulate him I'll get you off that personally, I don't care what kind of powers you have." Hermione glared, and settled the blankets around her, to cover the kilted up nightdress. 

Anna smiled, even in the low light of the darkened dormitory Hermione could see it in her face, "You're loyal, Hermione, I admire that. You're also brave; there are few, even in Avalon, who'd say that to a Morgan. I admire that also." 

She sighed, shaking her head so that the curly black mop of her hair fell about her face and shoulders in a tumble. "You are also right, I cannot promise you that Avalon won't use me to try and control the fate of young Harry Potter. That is, however, something I have no more control over than you do. I can no more refuse the wishes of the Lady of the Lake than I could stop using my magic, the two are irrevocably linked." 

"That's the power of Avalon: you're all linked, magically. It's the blessing and the curse of the powers you wield." Hermione said, "I read it in _A History of the Holy Isle. A priestess is bound to obedience to the island and the Lady of the Lake by the kiss of the goddess, whatever that is."_

Anna laughed, with a disbelieving shake of her head, "It's not right that one not initiated to the mysteries know this much about the bond of a sister to her Goddess and her Lady. It should not be so."

"I'm right though, aren't I?" Hermione saw Anna nod and bow her head, "You're not a priestess though, why is it that you're here and not another?"

"I am a Morgan, I am even more bound to the power of the Holy Isle than any priestess ever would be." She frowned, "So it has always been, so is it now, and so it will forever be."

"What do you mean 'Morgan'? Why is that so important? What makes that more binding than anything else?" the eager face Hermione showed only to her books and teachers lit up the dark bedroom. 

"Hermoine," Anna sighed, "will you accept that there are things that I have taken vows to protect and cannot now or will I ever be able to speak to you about?"

"Yes" Hermione agreed eagerly, agreeing to anything as long as she satisfied the wanting for an answer to her questions.

"Morgan is a title, like priestess, but different. I was born to fulfil this position, raised by the sisters to serve the Goddess. Because I am literally and physically bound to the powers of Avalon, through me the sisters can accomplish feats of magic impossible by other means. I am little more than a very valuable vessel, to run power through or take powers from at wish. It is something inborn, a trait that they treasure very much and usually do not let back out into the world. I am here to protect Harry," 

Anna made eye contact with Hermione and let her conviction burn into her eyes, "Understand this thoroughly Miss Hermione Granger, your friend Harry Potter will not die so long as I am near him. I will die first in his protection. That is my sworn duty. I will protect him at all costs, even my own life. It is that important to Avalon that he remains intact to see to the Dark Lord's last battle. He has nothing to fear from me. That is all the promise I can give you, though I think it is promise enough. Are you satisfied by that?"

"I suppose I have to be," Hermione agreed, "I'll accept that as your promise to keep him safe."

"Good," Anna sounded relieved, and lay back down on the featherbed, "Have you anything else you want of me?"

"Probably," Hermione joked, turning back to her own pillow, "but it's enough for tonight, thank you."

"You're welcome." Anna slid back under the blanket, "and good night" 

"Night" responded Hermione and they both fell asleep to the humming of Lavender and Parvati, still chattering in the background, completely oblivious. 

 


	4. The Real Powers of Avalon

Disclaimer: 

I do not pretend to own the Harry Potter world or any character within it: that right belongs to the eminent J. K. Rowling, to whom I most respectfully yield. 

Neither do I pretend to be an expert on the early legends of King Arthur and the fabled Isle of Avalon. They belong to posterity and my imagination. 

If, in writing, I offend someone, I apologize, but stand by my opinions. I write this solely for my own amusement and for the appreciation of my audience. 

I have no money, don't sue me, I'm not worth it, and there are bigger fish to fry.

Chapter Four

There was nothing different about Hogwarts, the mail still came by owl every morning, the house elves still cleaned out the Great Hall after its occupants, and Hermione still huffed about the slavery of it all. The only difference between this year and the past was the tone. 

The addition of nine white or red clad teachers was a visible reminder of the added security everyone knew was placed on the castle. Peeves the Poltergeist was even forbidden from some classrooms and offices, a situation that frustrated him to no end.

One morning, nearly a week after the start of term banquet, the morning owls flew into the Great Hall. Preoccupied by his delivery of the Daily Prophet, Harry didn't notice that anything was wrong until he heard a shriek from the Hufflepuff table. 

He stood up to see what it was all about, but Anna had him by the collar and nearly jerked him under the table, all the while drawing her wand as if they were being attacked. After a few seconds Anna let him up, Harry was surprised to see that Hermione also had her wand drawn, as if expecting to defend herself. 

"What is it?" he heard himself ask, watching Professor Sprout lead Hannah Abbot, who was in his Herbology class, away, her face buried in the short woman's robe, shoulders shaking. 

"Black backed owl," Ron said hollowly, "from the Ministry; it means someone's died on the job. Her father works in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement; I'll bet it was him."

"Oh no!" Hermione exclaimed, "Not Hannah!"

"It's begun," Anna said softly, "Mark my words; there will be more of these black owls before the term is up. The Dark Lord is once again on the rise." Her face was sombre and her voice held no amusement, "Do you still think you have what it takes to see this through to the end, Harry Potter?" 

"What choice do I have?" he asked bitterly, "It will be even worse in the end if I don't face him."

"There are always choices Harry," Anna sounded amused, not at the situation, but at his declaration, "Just because some decisions have more violent and unpleasant consequences than others, doesn't make the choice any less valid."

"What do you want me to say?" Harry asked, "That I won't stand and face him when the time comes?"

"You will," she said with a conviction that Harry found hard to echo, "It is your fate and your destiny. I only mean to caution you. Your choices will affect more than yourself, especially now. Realize that."

"It's kind of hard to forget," Ron said, still focused on the owl, wearing a black vest-like garment, "Especially when one of those things has come flying in."

Hermione sniffled and turned into Ron's shoulder, hiding a few tears in the folds of his robe; he put a comforting arm around her and gently patted her head. She looked up and said shakily "I'm glad you've come here Anna"

"Wait and see if you're still glad when I'm gone" Anna said wryly, "I assure you that you may come to dislike me later as much as you now appreciate my presence."

"Why?" asked Harry, sitting back down to finish his breakfast, though the oatmeal now tasted like chalk to his palate.

"I told you once Harry, that I will stand to protect you," Anna seated herself on his left hand side, "that will not make me popular nor likeable sometimes."

"We'll all stand to protect each other, we always have" Ron declared, "but we still get along. Most of the time"

"Be that as it may, I certainly hope I am wrong." Anna grinned, "I've become quite fond of you Ron Weasley." He blushed, as brightly red as his flame coloured hair. 

"What's on the schedule for today then, Hermione?" asked Harry, eager to get his mind off the black messenger owl. 

"Advanced Potions," she began, interrupted by Ron's disgusted "Ugh, Snape", "then we've got Herbologly, or perhaps not, considering, then Defences Against the Dark Arts in the afternoon and I've got Ancient Runes, and you've got Divination."

"Will you stay for Defences Against the Dark Arts or will you disappear like you always do?" Ron asked, "It's not really fair, the way they let you off like that."

"She doesn't need it," a voice behind Ron spoke, "there are better things to be done with the time."

Ron, and everyone else except Anna, jumped at the low pitched voice of the Lady Wren, the Priestess who'd been assigned to Griffindor for their classes. 

Anna just hrummmfed irritably and said "I really think you should stop doing that, Wren, honestly, all it does is scare people."

"Sometimes fear is a good thing, it keeps us from taking unnecessary risks." Wren smiled, she was considerably older than Anna and Harry and the rest, but still managed to pull off the same childlike enthusiasm, "Besides, that's your favourite trick, not mine."

"We're not taking unnecessary risks sitting down to breakfast." Anna informed her pompously, "and I only do it if it'll help the situation, not scare people out of a year's growth."

"Balderdash, you like making them jump as much as I do" Wren disagreed cheerfully, "By the By, the Lady wants to see you, she's in the common room, waiting."

"I just spoke to her this morning and she didn't have anything special to say." Anna protested, "Why does she want me now?" 

"Not that Lady, Morganna, the other one." Wren lifted her brows expectantly. 

"Oh bugger it all; doesn't she have better things to do with her time?" Anna stood up, hastily slurping down the rest of her pumpkin juice, "Honestly! You'd think the woman could find better things to do than harass me on a regular basis."

"Watch yourself," Wren said companionably, "I might let you have a certain amount of liberty, but the Lady most certainly will not. Morgan you might be, sister you are not yet."

"I think I know that as well as you, _Lady Wren," Anna emphasised, "But at least in this one thing I have the authority as you do not. Stay with them Wren, until I return."  _

"Of course," Wren bowed her head, "I live to serve, Morganna."

"Cheeky," Anna muttered, "I'm sorry for running off like this, it's unpardonably rude, but Wren will stay with you until I return, whenever that may be. Goddess knows she likes the sound of her own voice."

"Who?" asked Harry, puzzled by all the double-talk.

   "The Lady of the Lake," Wren said, lightly as Anna swished out of the Great Hall. "This is Morganna's first excursion outside of Avalon and the Mother is notoriously protective of her little chicks."

"The Lady of the Lake is here?" Hermione asked, incredulous.

"Not physically," Wren assured her, "She's just in the fire, wanting to chat."

"Why do you keep calling her Morganna?" Ron asked, "Isn't her name Anna?

"Yes and no" Wren acknowledged, "She goes by Anna, but it's not her full name. She'll probably drop the rest entirely when she takes the last vows."

"You pick your own names?" Harry asked.

"Do you think I was born 'wren' ?" Wren asked wryly. Harry ducked his head in embarrassment, still munching his oatmeal. "Finish up then," Wren said brightly, "I've been looking forward to meeting with Master Snape so this ought to be an excellent opportunity."

"Don't say we didn't warn you," Ron grumbled, but with Wren in the room radiating energy and cheerfulness, there was no way Snape could be as selectively vindictive as he usually was. A welcome change for the Griffindors, for Snape seemed to take the presence of the people of Avalon as a personal insult and tortured his least favourite class accordingly.

Professor Sprout was twenty minutes late to Herbology, no small reason being Hannah's abrupt message and subsequent departure, but she found her class working cheerfully to prune the Venomous Tentacula. It'd finished its teething cycle over the summer and needed to be trimmed. The students were laughing; too preoccupied with avoiding the tickling feelers to really notice that Hannah and Professor Sprout weren't there.    

"I trust everything is alright, or at least as alright as it can be." Wren spoke softly, so as not to distract the students from their task. "You mentioned that it needed work, so I put them to it. I didn't mean to presume."

"No that's ok," Sprout said thickly, "They need something to do."

"Go on back up to the lounge then, love, I can handle this one. Give yourself a little time." Wren put a sympathetic hand on Sprout's shoulder, "I've got the Griffindors next anyhow and a sympathetic ear if needs be."

"I will, I think, and thank you." Sprout rose and dusted herself off, "I appreciate it." Wren nodded, and watched Sprout leave.

 'It has begun,' she thought to herself, 'Not as we would have planned it or wished it, but still within our control, for now, at least.' She looked at the sharpened pruning shears in her hand, reminded strongly of her years as a novice and the months she'd spent working on eradicating every semblance of a weed from the Avalon gardens under the watchful eye of her teachers. 

'And so it comes full circle again' Wren mused, 'only this time I'm the teacher and I know everything and can never falter or fail' she chuckled at her own fancy. No one had all the answers, not even the Lady of the Lake; it was a childish wish to want someone to just sweep all the troubles out of the path, but Wren wished it all the same.

 Anna was back for the start of Defence Against the Dark Arts, as was Raven, someone whom the class had only seen during the start of term banquet. The Griffindors were ushered silently outside, where not only Raven faced them, but the entire House of Griffindor, from first to seventh year, was gathered. Raven cleared her voice and began to speak: 

"There is one thing that Avalon is famous for, that many witches and wizards try to emulate but ultimately fail and die horribly attempting. Those initiated to the Holy Isle can perform magic without the use of a wand." Amazed mutterings from within the class filled the air; this was one rumour that had spread about over the past week. Mysterious things happened when Sisters of the Holy Isle waved their hands, they bore wands, to be sure, but sometimes they 'forgot' to use them.

"I know there is a rumour to this effect, and it is true, this is something that can be done. However," she looked sternly from face to face, "after today, should I hear one breath of word to this effect from the mouth of a Griffindor the entire house, the lot of you, will be failed for the year." Silence fell over the assembled group, replaced by nervous gulps. 

"Make no mistake I have the will and authority to do this. Right now all the other houses are being convened, in their common rooms, to hear the official version of that Abbot girl's father's death. The ministry's handed down a load of garbage about him falling in the line of duty, but suffice it to say he was murdered by the Death Eaters."

Murmurs filled the crowd; this wasn't what they wanted to hear. "I've taken advantage of the time to show you why we don't teach what I'm about to show you to outsiders. Morgan, attend me."

Anna, her face pale and waxen, began to remove her robes, tunic, shirt, boots, and trousers, finally standing before the assembled house wearing a bra type top Harry'd seen athletes wear and short, bicycle type shorts. Harry, and probably every male within the vicinity, marvelled at her sleek, fit form. She had that body type that made her seem about as substantial as gossamer, with a delicate fine bone structure, that belied years of intense discipline. 

 Wren and Dimitri, the Druid, began to rub Anna all over with a glistening ointment. Anna was heavily tattooed, dragons flaring like bracelets on her wrists and ankles, Celtic runes and writing running up and down her back and stomach, and a line of fish, like a necklace, tucked under her chin. They glimmered and shone with magic as the ointment was applied.

"If you'll recall there was a dock on this side, until this summer when a nasty storm came through and sank it, and most of the shoreline, into the lake." Anna's voice as she faced them was calm and oddly flat, as though speaking entirely by rote. "I want you to watch what happens to me and the ground around me as I raise it back up."

She turned to face the lake, and knelt. Harry was close enough to hear her say, "Goddess as you love me, let this not be my time." She stood, raised one hand palm up to the sky and said, "I call upon the lightening."

A bolt of unparalleled brightness flew out of the clear sky and landed in her palm for long seconds, as she seemed to absorb the energy, growing brighter and brighter as the bolt seemed to go on forever. The grass around her ankles turned black and crisped, as the power fed into her until all at once she made a snapping motion and the bolt died. 

Still glowing she starched her palm down over the edge of the fresh cliff face and called out "Accio Dock!" 

A sheer lance of white light flew from her hand to the water, summoning the fallen dock. Around her not only had the grass begun to smoke and curl, but her arms and legs were steaming as well, giving off physical waves of smoke as she worked.

The ground, eroded by wave and wind, flew back onto the cliff side with an enthusiasm that spattered Anna with mud that just hissed and crisped when it touched her body. The dock went piece by piece, back to its original position, fast enough that a few fish still flopped on the boards. The light cut out, and Anna fell, first to her knees, then on all fours, panting as if having just finished a marathon.

"I would like everybody to please file by and examine the ground she was standing on." Raven ordered, "Morgan, you may now go cool off." 

Anna walked, somewhat unsteadily, over to and straight off the end of the dock. As she dove into the water, it hissed and steamed, as though someone had just put a red hot pan into a kitchen sink. Obediently the Griffindors walked by the scorched circle of earth. Blacked foot, knee, and hand prints were left where Anna had stood and then fallen. Raven waited for them to seat themselves back where they'd started before addressing them again.

"That is why we don't usually don't try teaching this skill outside of Avalon." Raven said simply, "Anna will be the first to tell you that she's spent her life, from her very birth, being conditioned to endure that kind of pain. You'll notice she's been marked on her back, stomach, arms, legs, and neck. Seventh years should recognise it, as they are protection spells, and they are permanently inked into her flesh in order to keep her from being crisped like that grass. Ask her about them sometime, I'm sure it'd be enlightening."

Wren, the cheerful, bubbly Wren spoke now, completely sombre, "What we've received permission to give you isn't nearly that powerful, thank the Goddess, Anna has a special ability, she's a Morgan, and it allows her to handle power that would crisp you or me. I know that all of you know how to cast a disarming spell; I've spent the past week working on that. What I want you to do now is take out your wands," she waited for this process to be complete, "When I tell you, cast the spell against the wall of this circle" She joined hands with Raven and Dimitri and a bubble, rainbow coloured almost transparent descended on the Grifindors, "NOW!"

Harry cast his against the bubble, as did everyone else, and felt a slight tingle as it hit the sphere. His head suddenly pounded and he went weak in the knees, dropping to his back in the grass.

"If you're feeling a little woozy or sick, that's perfectly normal" Raven assured a vomiting Griffindor, "that means the spell worked." 

"Now, again, if we hear that anyone has breathed a trace of this to anyone from another house, you will all fail." Wren said seriously, "And likely the Lady of the Lake will have some words for you as well, she was a former Griffindor, and allowed us to only perform if for you, as she trusts in the Griffindor ethos. I will repeat myself: DO NOT USE THIS SPELL, not unless your life is in mortal danger and you've been separated from your wand. A situation I pray will never befall you."        

         "Go back to your common rooms; the last classes of the day have been cancelled." Raven ordered, "And if any of you feel truly sick, please don't hesitate to see Madame Pomfrey, that's what she's there for."  


	5. The Midnight Meeting

Disclaimer: 

I do not pretend to own the Harry Potter world or any character within it: that right belongs to the eminent J. K. Rowling, to whom I most respectfully yield. 

Neither do I pretend to be an expert on the early legends of King Arthur and the fabled Isle of Avalon. They belong to posterity and my imagination. 

If, in writing, I offend someone, I apologize, but stand by my opinions. I write this solely for my own amusement and for the appreciation of my audience. 

I have no money, don't sue me, I'm not worth it, and there are bigger fish to fry.

Chapter Five

They didn't see Anna for the rest of the day, nor at all on Tuesday, and it wasn't until late Wednesday night before she made an appearance in the Griffindor common room, looking gaunt and exhausted, as though she'd been severely sick. 

As soon as she entered she was mobbed by a crowd of Griffindors, all speaking and babbling at once. Wren and Dimitri had to break up the group, reminding them of the consequences of mentioning the 'incident', and giving Anna some much needed space to breathe. She walked over, threw off her over-robe and tunic and plopped next to Harry and Ron, who were playing chess, wearing her thin silk shirt and breeches. 

"Are you all right then?" Ron asked, furrowing his brows in concern, "We've not seen you for a few days, we was getting worried."

"I'll live" Anna said softly, staring into the flames "it wasn't terribly pleasant, but I suppose you needed to see it. Goddess bless me, I'm tired. It takes the stuffing right out of your soul."

"Aye, but you'll live," Wren sat herself down next to the fire, as spry as any student, despite her solid silver hair.

"She could have died," Hermione said angrily, from her usual chair by the fire, upset that her maybe-friend had put herself or had been put, as Hermione thought, in such danger. 

"Many have" said the voice of Dimitri, the taciturn Druid who'd patrolled the common room and growled, the entire time Anna had been gone. 

He laid out flat on his back, with his head pillowed comfortably in Wren's lap. "I've seen it be, three or four days some have gone, burning up like some perverted torch. Not a pleasant way to go." 

  "I don't imagine there are many pleasant ways to go." Harry commented, trying to concentrate on the chess game in front of him and not the girl sitting at his side. That thin silk shirt didn't cover much; he could see the green and red dragons, which twined around her wrists like bracelets, spitting magical flames up her forearms.

She put up her boots and a footstool rushed to place itself under her ankles. She did look tired, Harry thought, and thinner. She wasn't all that large to begin with, having that typically petite, fine boned frame, which made her seem quite fairylike. The ordeal she'd just endured seemed to take off any sparse flesh, honing her body down to the bare essentials. There weren't many essentials left. 

"There are more pleasanter ways to go than that I assure you." Anna grunted, lapsing into half-sleep, eyes shuttered against the brightness of the flames.

"No more of the dreary talk," Wren ordered sternly, "Dimitri, go get your harp. We need some music to charm that savage beast."

Anna made a show of baring her teeth and rumbling at Wren, who to everybody's surprise and amusement, returned the gesture. Dimitri returned from his room with his lap harp, and set it up in the chair next to Hermione. He began to play, soft lilting tunes, with Wren singing along in an equally soporific manner. 

Hermione wasn't quite sure when the harp song ended and she fell asleep, but she jerked to awareness when a flash of light caught her eye. She almost lifted her head, but when she caught a face in the flames she dropped it back down instantly and pretended to sleep.

 Ron was sleeping next to Harry on the floor, Dimitri's cloak thrown over them both, and Hermione was still in the chair by the fire, pretending to be asleep and unmoving, she strained her ears listening to the voice in the flames

 "Yes Mother," Anna spoke softly, sitting cross-legged in front of the fire.

"Did it work?" the woman asked, Hermione couldn't see her face, but the voice was female and well spoken.

 "Yes Mother, Lady Raven assured me that the spell had taken." Anna nodded.

"No fatalities then," the Lady sounded pleasantly surprised, "Good."

"The incantation we used was considerably less powerful then the one we use at home, if there had been…problems…there would also have been some rather unpleasant questions." Anna brushed at her hair, curly black and hanging loose all the way down her back, "I didn't think you wanted that."

"The idiots in the ministry can't touch us; it's been in their charter since the moment we allowed them to rule. I wasn't worried about that." The Lady said dismissively.

"Dumbledore can, he's almost as influential as you are, though not nearly as powerful." Anna observed.   

"I suppose." The Lady said, sounding unconcerned, "And you?"

"I'm alive," Anna said anger tingeing her voice, "Though Goddess knows I shouldn't be. That was almost enough to kill me."     

"I told you that you could handle that much power, you need to have faith" the voice sounded adult and amused, as if Anna had been a reluctant child afraid of the dark, not someone who'd almost died trying to do magic she wasn't yet ready for.

"Aye, Lady, but to risk it all on a demonstration? I don't think it was wise." Anna argued. "Ye'd be in sore shape if I was killed now."

"Did the latest set of protections hold?" the Lady enquired anxiously. 

"No," Anna grumbled, "I spent two days in their hospital wing with the burns running up and down my back. The impervious charm doesn't seem to work."

"Let me see," the woman requested. Hermione saw Anna rise and pull off her silk shirt, completely bare underneath and turn her back to the flames, flipping her hair to the front to bare all of her back. Hermione's eyes closed with an almost audible snap, but the image of Anna skin, both burnt and tattooed seared into her mind anyhow. 

"You're lucky you put on that weight over the summer," the Lady remarked, "otherwise it'd have gone straight through you. Have Raven take out the impervious charm, try the flame freezing charm, it works better, at least."

"It tickles," Anna protested.

"I'm sure you'll manage" the adult said wryly, "What about young Potter? Have you made any progress?"

"Define 'progress'" Anna laughed hollowly, "He tolerates my presence, that's close enough for the both of us."

"Pity," the flames remarked, "It would be easier if you could lure him to bed, at least in my mind. He's teenage boy, you're pretty enough, it shouldn't be that hard."

"The phoenix incantation works at the distance I'm at, I don't think we should jeopardize it by trying for more. He is a Griffindor. You above all should know about that." Hermione could hear silk sliding over skin and chanced a look, she was fully dressed again. 

"Have you got to work on the potion?"

"Their potions master was a Death Eater; he can take care of it."

"Who?" the voice sounded concerned.

"Snape, Serverus Snape." Anna shrugged, "He's not a very pleasant man, but he understands why I need it done. The Binding Potion should be ready within the month."

"You've done well," the voice sounded pleased, "Very well my child."

"Thank you mother," Anna replied. 

There was another flash and Anna slowly rose from her seated position on the rug, and walked past Hermione's chair. She reached out and caught the edge of Anna's shirttail as she passed. Their eyes met and Anna knew that Hermione had heard everything. 

"He will not be harmed" Anna spoke softly, so as not to wake up the boys.

"A Binding Potion, the Phoenix charm, sleeping with Harry!" Hermione hissed, "That sure as hell doesn't sound like it!" 

"Firstly," Anna said seriously, "I give myself to no man, the Goddess holds my virginity. The Lady of the Lake herself can take that to Gringotts." Anna tossed her hair, becoming seriously annoyed at herself for explaining things to Hermione; a true priestess would have simply modified Hermione's memory with nary a qualm.  

"Secondly, the Phoenix _Incantation works against me, not him, I could no more lift my hand against Harry than cut it off." She waved the aforementioned appendage in front of Hermione's face and the Dragons on her wrists spat magical flames up her arms in annoyance.  _

"Thirdly, you, all three of you, underestimate Serverus Snape. He is as dedicated to the Dark Lord's destruction as any of you, even if he's rather unpleasant about it. The binding potion will not hold Harry Potter against his will, of that you have my word." Anna tucked the tail of her shirt back into her breeches. 

"What good is that?" Hermione scoffed, giving Anna's nearest available body part, her hip, a shove. "You've already proven more powerful than anyone here, it would be easy enough to break it and no one could stop you. Not even the Ministry can, I heard that, as well."

"Do you want to see my back?" Anna hissed, angry that her loyalty had been questioned, "Will that be proof enough that I can keep my word, even for that old woman's experiments?"

Hermione threw off the white robe that someone covered her with, and faced Anna, hands set on hips and eyes blazing. "What would that prove? I know you can endure pain. Tell me what you're up to."

"I can't," Anna pleaded, angry with Hermione for forcing the issue and herself for not simply Obliviating this from her mind. "You just have to trust me, even though you have no reason to do it. Trust me."

"Why should I?" Hermione asked defiantly.

Later, they could look back at this moment and marvel that the fate of the wizarding world had at one time rested on the shaky bond of trust between two sixteen year old girls. Now, all they could do was to look at each other and glower.

Anna knew if word ever got out that she'd allowed Hermione to know even this small portion of her orders, without modifying her memory immediately, she'd never set foot off of Avalon again. Hermione needed to know that this secretive stranger would care for her friend, almost her brother, as much as she herself would, especially when he had more than the weight of the world to carry on his slim shoulders.

One of the boys snorted in his sleep, drawing their attention, Hermione's eyes drifting to the red headed wonder that she so exasperatingly loved. Anna's were drawn to the black hair of the young man she'd been raised to protect at all costs. Identical expressions of feminine concern crossed their faces, and they glanced at each other. 

"We'll wake them up if we keep arguing," Hermione remarked.

"Heaven forbid," Anna murmured.     

"I still don't trust you." Hermione emphasised, just for good measure.

"I don't trust you, too" Anna said smugly. Hermione threw up her hands, but they both smiled. For the moment, at least, they were in accord. Silently they walked up the stairs to Griffindor tower. 


	6. Zonko's

Disclaimer: 

I do not pretend to own the Harry Potter world or any character within it: that right belongs to the eminent J. K. Rowling, to whom I most respectfully yield. 

Neither do I pretend to be an expert on the early legends of King Arthur and the fabled Isle of Avalon. They belong to posterity and my imagination. 

If, in writing, I offend someone, I apologize, but stand by my opinions.

I write this solely for my own amusement and for the appreciation of my audience. NO monetary gain whatsoever is intended. 

I have no money, don't sue me, I'm not worth it, and there are bigger fish to fry.

Chapter Six

Fred and George Weasley proclaimed their acceptance of Anna into the Griffindor family by going into her trunk while she was asleep and painting a large red target, formed of bright concentric circles, on the backs and fronts of all her pure white tunics. 

They had decided that enough weeks had passed for her to be properly initiated into Griffindor tower. They, being the practical jokers of Griffindor tower, felt it was their duty to see to this welcoming. Apparently neither of them was anticipating her to react quite as strongly as she did.

Anna came down that morning positively steaming. Apparently the atmosphere at Avalon was strict enough that practical joking wasn't the norm, or perhaps the chore of bleaching out a tunic, magically, before it could be worn was enough to aggravate her substantially. She had one of the offending tunics in her hand and was scanning the common room for a likely target for her early-morning wrath.

Spotting Harry and Ron, chortling over a joke that Dean was quietly telling them, Anna assumed it was at her predicament and promptly pulled out her wand. 

"Accio!" she shouted, Summoning the two boys to her side and wrapping them tightly in magically binding ropes. From the look on her face and the fact that her wand was not being held in a position that would induce magic, they suspected that she was casting a good bit of magic around them without it. 

"Care to explain what this," she waved an offending tunic in their face, "is all about, lads?" her accent was stronger than ever, she was practically burring with her eyes.

"We didn't do it!" Ron shouted, "Honest!"

"Anna!" Hermione shouted, having heard the commotion and running down the stairs in a fit of panic, half buttoned with her robes flying out behind her, and wand pulled. "What's going on?"

For explanation Anna held up the still dripping tunic for Hermione's inspection. 

"RON!" Hermione shouted, "Honestly!" by now they'd garnered quite a crowd, in the common room, all of them curious to see what happened next. 

"It wasn't us!" Harry protested, struggling tightly at his bonds.

"Well there's one easy way to see about that" Hermione said crisply, "Pintaro Originatorum" The red paint suddenly glowed neon green, and left a wafting trail from the boys' dormitory to the girls dormitory, back down the stairs of the girls dormitory, where Anna was holding it and straight into the crowd, centring on Fred and George Weasley. 

One flick of her wand had Ron and Harry landing on the sofa cushions of the Griffindor sofa, Banished, and another flick saw Fred and George tied up, Summoned, and hanging from the ceiling of the common room, upside-down. Laughter rained down from the rafters of the tower, Griffindors finally enjoying the sight of Fred and George being caught for one of their pranks. 

"Well," she said, circling the two tied up twins, "Do you have anything to say?" 

"It was just a joke!" one of them mumbled, "Didn't mean anything by it"

"Really?" she said leeringly, "Let me just remind you the retribution is swift," she jerked their bonds so that they rattled like peas, "and harsh" she let them drop to the hard slate floor.

"Well then," Fred, or George, said testily, "You don't have to get testy about it."

"Testy?" Anna repeated, "I'll tell you when I get testy," she turned the slate floor to ice and slid the pair of them out of the common room, through the portrait hole, and crashing into the wall across the hall. "When you least expect it, expect it" 

Fred and George looked over their shoulders and tiptoed through the common room for about a week, then Qwidditch trials started, and preparations for their usual batch of Halloween prank-ing caught up with them and their careful vigilance evaporated. 

They'd just come back from an early morning Qwidditch practice, the common room was filling with people rushing to finish their last minute homework assignments. Angelina, Alicia, Katie, Harry, and their new Keeper, Natalie McDonald a second year in her first season of eligibility, all made it through the portrait hole unscathed. When Fred and George went to go through it, a large cauldron of what looked like water Apperated and spilled over both of them, drenching them to the skin.

As they sputtered and removed the cauldron from their heads, to the tune of laughter from the assembled Griffindors, Fred and George, were met by a pair of pristine calf-high white boots.

"Well, Gentlemen?" Anna asked, "Have you anything to say to me now?" the twins just growled and stalked off to their dormitory to presumably get cleaned off. Ron was on the floor in a fit of hysterical laughter, and the entire assembled company of Griffindors were laughing with him. They all thought that Fred and George had got their comeuppance.

They were wrong.

During breakfast that morning, while Harry was eating his porridge and Hermione had her nose busily buried in the paper, Ron suddenly let his spoon drop from his fingers landing with a plop and scattering oatmeal everywhere. Harry was about to protest Ron's splattering, when a loud set of catcalls and whistles sounded from the other end of the hall. 

He and Hermione both turned to see the cause of the disturbance and were greeted with a sight they'd never thought they'd see. Fred and George Weasley, both of them, were walking down the side of the table with faces blushing brightly red and hair dyed a shocking shade of neon green. 

As they walked the strands shifted from neon green to a truly eye-blinding shade of hot pink. Ron, Hermione, and Harry, indeed the entire Griffindor table, looked to see what Anna was doing, but all she did was grin as she chewed thoughtfully on her morning apple and read from a dog eared copy of _Potions and Pranks: Second Edition._

 From that moment onwards Fred, George, and Anna became fast friends. Apparently the combination of her scholarship, their talent for pranks, and the infamous Avalon connections, led to a midnight package from Hogwarts to Zonkos Joke Shop Inc. On the last Hogsmeade weekend before Halloween everyone stopped to stare at the storefront of Zonko's as they advertised the All-New Never-Before-Seen Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. 

        They were such a hit that Zonko's in Hogsmeade sold out of every Wizard Wheeze in the shop, a six month supply gone in a matter of hours. Apparently the London supply went as quickly, because on the day after Halloween a letter arrived from Zonkos Inc that had Fred and George pelting down the Great Hall and swinging Anna up into a humongous embrace. 

As soon as they calmed down enough to relinquish the letter, Anna read out the profits for the month, that totalled, including deductions from taxes, licensing, and advertisement fees, nearly five thousand Galleons.

Fred whooped and shouted, waving the paper in the air. George bent Anna over his arm and kissed her so enthusiastically she was blushing and gasping by the time he let her back up. Even Snape's vindictive fifty points from Griffindor for 'disturbing the peace' couldn't put a damper on the celebrations, which lasted all day and well into the night. Everyone in Hogwarts, with the possible exception of a few Slytherins, was overjoyed at the Weasley's Wizard Wheezes success.  

Harry, Ron and Hermione pretty much waltzed through the day, Professors Flitwick, Binns and McGonagall realizing that not much was likely to get done anyhow. The only damper, if possible, on the day was the sudden and abrupt departure of Anna, the heroine of the hour to parts unknown; because it was her influence that'd gotten Zonko's attention. The Lady Raven had come for her during the early minutes of Charms and it was almost ten o'clock in the evening and they still had seen neither hide nor hair of her. 

Fred was off in a corner somewhere, gleefully 'celebrating' by snogging the life out of his girlfriend, Angelina. George was setting off Fillibuster's No-Heat Wet-Start Fireworks and downing bottle after bottle of Butterbeer. 

The three friends however weren't quite so gleeful. They'd seen the expression on Raven's face as she'd come to pick up Anna, and she wasn't happy. Somehow they got the impression that using an Avalon connection to 'help' get Weasley's Wizard Wheezes off the ground was not a good thing for Anna to have done. 


	7. Rules and Consequences

Disclaimer:

I do not pretend to own the Harry Potter world or any character within it: that right belongs to the eminent J. K. Rowling, to whom I most respectfully yield.

Neither do I pretend to be an expert on the early legends of King Arthur and the fabled Isle of Avalon. They belong to posterity and my imagination.

If, in writing, I offend someone, I apologize, but stand by my opinions.

I write this solely for my own amusement and for the appreciation of my audience. NO monetary gain whatsoever is intended.

I have no money, don't sue me, I'm not worth it, and there are bigger fish to fry.

Chapter Seven

Anna stumbled back through the portrait hole nearing eleven in the night. Harry and Ron rushed to see her but it was George who got there first and gave her a congratulatory slap on the back that made her face go white and her knees buckle. 

"What's wrong?" George asked the ashen faced Anna, "Aren't you happy 'bout this? After all, it was you that got us the try out."

"Overjoyed," she gritted her teeth, "Lady Raven's just been working a bit on my protection spells, I'm a little sore."

"Oh your poor back!" Hermione exclaimed, "Are you alright?"

"I'm just going to go upstairs for a spell and lay down." Ann walked gingerly up the stairs, "Don't mind me."

Hermione flew up the stairs behind her and helped Anna lay down onto her own bed, face first. George's slap must have disturbed something under her tunic, because red was seeping through the fabric.

"Oh my god," Ron exclaimed softly, he and Harry having followed almost at Hermione's heels. "What the hell happened to you?"

"One of the protections spells for her body didn't work properly last time," Hermione said briskly, using scissors to snip off her tunic. As she began to pull off the blood soaked tunic and shirt she gasped at the sight of the freshly removed, grafted, and inked portions of the skin on her back. "Lady Raven must have removed it and put on the other."

"I thought you couldn't remove a magical tattoo" Harry said, "Especially if its spell bearing."

"You can't" Anna grunted, tightly, through gritted teeth, as Hermione removed the sodden shirt, leaving her bare to the waist, "You've got to take the whole bit of skin off and start fresh"  

 "This is outrageous," Hermione said quietly, enraged at the sight in front of her. All of the cuts were unsealed, still oozing slightly and beginning to get the puffy redness that signalled a possible infection. "Madame Pomfrey can heal split flesh in an instant, and they left you like this."

"I wasn't supposed to use my connections to help the twins," Anna said tightly, "It's my own damn fault. Its only pain, it'll go away soon enough. It needed to be done anyhow; it's my fault that it ended out this way."

"They did this to you because of that!" Ron exclaimed, shocked.

"That's barbaric" Harry muttered, "If this gets infected you could die." 

"I knew what I was doing and I knew what would happen when I did it! There's an anti-infector spell in there somewhere. They won't let me die." Anna shouted, frustrated and in pain, "That's just the way it is, there are rules and there are consequences for breaking the rules. Now if you're just going to stand there and criticize my family and my way of life, then you can leave." 

"We're not going anywhere," Hermione said firmly. "Ron, go get our potions ingredients. Harry, get her head up, and move her hair out of the way." She rummaged in her trunk and removed a book, flipping it open and laying it on the bed. 

"What's that?" Anna asked, as Harry moved her curly hair off of the nape of her neck and pillowed her head on his lap, climbing up onto the pillows of Hermione's bed. Hermione held up her book so Anna could read the title, _The Practical Mediwitch._

"Mum insisted I get this after what happened last year," Hermione grunted as she removed a set of jars in a kit labelled, First Aid, from her trunk. "And I think we're going to put it to good use."

Ron came back with their combined satchel of potions ingredients, "I locked the door, but they're having such a party I doubt they'd notice anyhow."

"Good, now come here." Hermione directed, "Get out my cauldron. Start mixing this up." she handed him the book, opened to a specific page. "I'm going to see what I can do for the pain."

"It's just pain," Anna mumbled, "don't bother."   

 "That's it!" Hermione shouted, slamming her hand down on the bedside table. "I'm sick and tired of hearing you say that you're not worth consideration. You deserve more then to sit there in pain, you deserve more than to be punished for simple human decency, and you deserve more then to have to obey the sadistic whims of some batty old witch!" 

Anna's shoulders started to shake, at first Harry thought she was crying, but she smiled at Hermione and said, "I can't image Mother's expression if she heard you call her a batty old witch"   

Hermione shook her head, exasperated, and set to work. From his position Harry could see clearly whatever it was Hermione was doing. Curiously he examined some of the other marks on Anna's back. They were runes, some of them Harry recognised, some he didn't. The bloody patches were painfully obvious, and after a few minutes of work he asked Hermione "Didn't you say that you could knit this back together in seconds?"

"Madame Pomfrey could heal it in a few seconds," Hermione clarified, "But I'm not Madame Pomfrey and I don't have Professor Snape and the contents of the Potions cupboard at my disposal." Hermione pointed her wand at Ron, "I've got him and our Student Potions satchel."

"Hey!" Ron protested, "I'm working on it." 

"I know, Ron," Hermione's voice softened, "it's just frustrating not to have what I need to make this work." She walked over and stroked Anna's hair, "Are you in pain anymore?"

Harry felt her shake her head, knocking against his knee slightly, "I can't feel a thing, and it's absolutely marvellous."

"Good," Hermione said, satisfied, "Ron, are you almost done?" 

"Yeah, just let me…" he swished off the fire underneath the pewter cauldron, with his wand "We're good, now what are you going to do with it? Can I help?"

"Get me those jars," Hermione pointed at the First Aid kit, "and, no offence, but just go away. I need to concentrate."

Ron nodded and sat at one of the chairs at the dressing table. From that position both he and Harry could see what it was Hermione was doing. She used her wand to shred the shirt and tunic Anna'd been wearing into strips. The strips were wet in the potion that Ron brewed up and used to gently clean out the cuts. 

Anna flinched, but held still. Hermione muttered an incantation and the bleeding stopped, Hermione wiping up the last droplets. She rubbed on potions and spelled with her wand, until the angry cuts and welts started to fade considerably. She gently bandaged the last few bits, the deeper cuts, and poured Ron's potion over them. 

"Alright, you can roll over now" Hermione said at last. 

"No," Anna disagreed, "I can't."

"What!" Hermione exclaimed, "I did everything right, you should feel fine."

"I feel great, love, you did wonderfully." She reassured Hermione. "Just can't roll over because I'm not wearing a shirt." Harry could feel her face heat while it rested on his leg. Her fingers, intertwined with his, gave him a squeeze.

Suddenly the two boys realized that they'd been watching her be treated while she was still only half dressed. They nearly fell over each other to get out of the way and turn their backs to give her a moment of privacy.

"You can turn back now," she said softly, "Thank you."

They saw her sitting on the bed, wet spots staining Hermione's coverlet from her potion pouring escapade. Anna's face was drawn in an expression they weren't familiar with, vulnerability. Her eyes were shadowed and tear tracks were still fresh on her face. She had her arms wrapped around her middle, rocking slightly, scared. 

Harry's heart contracted, he hated to see people hurting. He crawled back onto the bed and awkwardly put his arms around her, being careful to avoid the sore spots on her back. She turned into him, sobbing softly, nestling her head on his shoulder and wrapping her arms around his waist. 

"Here," Hermione said thickly, pained at her patient's pain, "Drink this."

"What is it?" Anna asked, her voice muffled by Harry's shoulder. 

"Dreamless sleep potion" responded Hermione, "Drink it, you need to rest."

"Ok," she took the small phial, and chugged down the bitter liquid and Harry felt her muscles go almost instantly slack. He held her, sliding off the bed and cradling her sleeping body. He walked over to her bed and waited. . 

Ron and Hermione pulled back the coverlet and sheet on Anna's bed, making room for her and Harry tucked her into it. She weighed a lot less than she probably should. He tugged the sheet back up, gently so not to jar her, and pulled up the coverlet. 

Quietly he, Hermione, and Ron cleaned up after themselves. Harry cleaned up the spilled ingredients, putting them back into the satchel and Ron scrubbed out the cauldron. Hermione stripped the bed sheets they'd dirtied, fetching fresh ones from the closet nearby. 

"I can't believe they did that to her" Ron finally said, "That's just inhuman." 

"It needed to be done anyhow," Hermione said, "The old spell didn't work. It needed to be taken out and replaced. It didn't give them the right to leave her without the pain spells, though, no matter what they think she did." 

"I'll bet they didn't use one during the procedure either," Harry said angrily, "it must have been…" he couldn't find a word to describe what she had to have felt.

"They knocked her cold," Hermione said softly, "There were still traces of the spells on her back, an anti-inflammatory spell and an anaesthetic. She didn't feel a thing. It's just the recovery they left her for and I'll bet that Wren's up here in the morning with a better potion than we could make to really heal her."

"Why are you defending them?" Ron asked; hurt "Look at what they did to her!" 

"They need her too much to treat her too badly," Hermione said simply, "It's like if Harry did something bad enough to get expelled: do you think Dumbledore would truly kick him out right now?" both boys shook their heads. 

"No, he'd never do that, because we need him too much, especially now. She knows that she'll never be 'expelled' if you will, but they can still make her life as miserable as possible." Hermione pushed some bushy hair out of her face, "It's just like she said: there are rules, and if you break them there are consequences. She was willing to take the consequence if it meant breaking the rule." Hermione slammed her trunk shut, "they just believe that pain is good for the soul."

"That's insane," remarked Harry, "Why does she put up with it?"

"Because," Hermione said simply, "If I'm not mistaken, and I don't think I am, it's all she's ever known. They've given her everything she has in her life, what else can she do?"

Ron looked at Harry and Harry at Ron, neither of them could find anything to say to Hermione's argument. How do you tell someone who's been raised to obey, that her obedience of a lifetime is wrong? 


	8. Slytherin vs. Griffindor

Disclaimer:

I do not pretend to own the Harry Potter world or any character within it: that right belongs to the eminent J. K. Rowling, to whom I most respectfully yield.

Neither do I pretend to be an expert on the early legends of King Arthur and the fabled Isle of Avalon. They belong to posterity and my imagination.

If, in writing, I offend someone, I apologize, but stand by my opinions.

I write this solely for my own amusement and for the appreciation of my audience. NO monetary gain whatsoever is intended.

I have no money, don't sue me, I'm not worth it, and there are bigger fish to fry.

Chapter Eight

Sure enough Wren was up in the girls' dormitories later that morning with a jar of Madame Pomfrey's Cure-All potion and a special liquid to help the tattoo set properly and painlessly. She didn't seem surprised in the least that Hermione had treated Anna's back, indeed she complimented her technique in using what she had to get as much as she'd accomplished done.

 Within a few minutes Anna was back on her feet, healed, healthy, and very, very, hungry. As they came down the stairs, Ron and Harry were waiting, wanting to see if Anna was alright. 

"Are you OK?" asked Ron anxiously.

"Yes, thank you," Ann blushed, embarrassed they'd seen her in the state she'd been in the night before, "Wren came up with the Cure-All, and I'm fit to go."

"Thank heaven for small favours," Harry muttered, "It's not like those white robed sadists couldn't have done it last night."

Anna flinched, "Harry, I know you don't like them, but they're my family. Please don't do that, it's rude."

"And what they've done to you isn't?" he countered, angry.

"I had a choice," Anna said, softly, "I chose to stay on Avalon, I chose to follow the path of a priestess, and I chose to accept the discipline." 

She looked defiantly into his eyes, "You may not like it, that's fine, and you don't have to live it, but you will at least respect my decision." Her voice had gone from soft and embarrassed to firm and declarative. This was the voice of a Priestess. 

"It not fair, you shouldn't have to live like that!" Ron protested.  

"You're right," she agreed amicably, "It's not fair. That's life. My life. Or to borrow a Christian phrase, that's my little cross to bear."      

"Guys, will you leave it, ok?" Hermione asked, "It's the weekend, please let's all be pleasant, alright?"

They grumbled, but agreed, and went down to the dining hall for breakfast. The first Qwidditch match of the season, Griffindor vs. Slytherin, was scheduled for that afternoon. As Anna tucked away her weight in bacon, eggs, and porridge talk on the table turned to bludgers and quaffles, instead of magic and tattoo's, to everybody's relief and satisfaction.  

The Slytherin team, Captained by Draco Malfoy now that Flint had graduated, glowered from their breakfast table and spoke loudly about how they were going to pancake the Griffindors. 

Fred and George had to be held down from beginning the 'bludging' a little early and the entire team set down for a strategy session in the Griffindor common room for the morning. The first order of business was to elect a new Captain, a position Harry protested, but was out-voted on, and he had to accept anyway.

 The Weasley's also unveiled their new brooms, Firebolts, as a 'surprise' for the Slytherin team. They'd bought the pair of them with the proceeds from the latest Wizard Wheezes bank draft.

As midday approached, the weather was calm and clear, a perfect Qwidditch playing day. Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and Anna all marched down to the field early, to get the best seats.  Soon the stadium filled, Slytherin on one side and Griffindor on the other, as Lee Jordan went to the top box to announce the game.

"Welcome everybody to the first Qwidditch match of the season: Slythierin vs. Griffindor!" madcap cheering rose from the stands, "We have two new captains starting out in their very first games: for Griffindor their Seeker Harrrrrry Potterrr!"

As soon as the applause died to a dull roar, Lee went on announcing the names and positions of the various players. As Fred and George came out, mounted on their new Firebolts, a tremendous roar came from the stands. Draco, in Slytherin Green with the silver captain's band, looked satisfyingly worried.  

"And they're off," Lee shouted, as the snitch, quaffle, and bludgers were released. "Quaffle taken by Slytherin. It looks like; yes it is, Adrian Pucey, for Slytherin. Oh nice bludger work by a Weasley, can't tell which one, on their brand-new Firebolts, Spinnet had the Quaffle, heading for the goal, she shoots, oh no, miss, but no wait the rebound, Johnson, GRIFFINDOR SCORES!" 

Half the stands erupted in fanatical cheering, Draco swore and swatted at his broomstick. The Weasley twins, mounted on their new broomsticks were all over the place, knocking bludger after bludger towards Slytherin players, and unseating several very important passes. The new Griffindor Keeper, Natalie McDonald, proved herself very useful in the opening minutes, blocking two shots. She was no Oliver Wood however; and Sytherin scored several goals is rapid succession after she had the wind knocked out of her by a bludger. 

"Spinnet had the Quaffle, passes to Johnson, and passes to Bell, back to Johnson and oh my, that was a foul! Yes there's the whistle, penalty shot to Griffindor for Blagging, he clearly had her broomtail by the twigs. She puts it away easily and Slytherin gets the Quaffle!" Lee's voice suddenly rose in pitch, "Wait a minute I think Harry's spotted the Snitch!" 

Everyone held their breath as Harry, and milliseconds later Draco, both dove wildly towards the base of the Griffindor goal posts, Harry reaching there first, narrowly missing the post, but Draco, with less broom control than the excellent Firebolt, crashed straight into the hollow aluminium tube. 

"Ouch! That had to hurt! The Slytherin seeker gets ploughed, by a well timed dive from Griffindor" Lee winced as a collective groan issued from the Slytherin stands, "The score still stands Griffindor up one-hundred and twenty points to eighty, and yes, I believe I see that Madame Pomfrey has arrived on the field."

The mediwitch rushed out to the field, and, almost as soon as she reached Draco, waved him off. "I think, yes, it is, the Slythierin Seeker has been removed from the game for medical reasons. Do we have a replacement? Ten minute time out to Slytherin to regroup."  

The Slytherins madly rushed into the locker rooms, amid muffled murmurs from the crowd. According to the rules one team couldn't bring another player onto the field if one was removed, but they still needed to have a Seeker in order to finish. No other player could touch the Snitch and end the game. 

The Slytherin chaser, Adrian Pucey, took the Captain's armband, and told Madame Hooch he was now taking over as the Slytherin Seeker, leaving only two chasers on the field to play for Slytherin. The pace of play went from quick to absolutely mad. The Beaters didn't seem to much care if they made contact with flesh or bludger.

Three penalties, in rapid succession, were awarded to Griffindor and play turned really ugly. Alicia's nose was broken by a bludger, struck almost next to her face, but she continued to play. Fred Weasley was knocked off his broom by another Beater; he re-mounted gasping, but still able to fly. 

Harry decided that enough was enough, the next time he spotted the snitch, floating near the top box, he gunned all the acceleration the Firebolt had towards the little golden ball. Adrian Pucey, realising Harry'd spotted the snitch and unable to match his skill or speed, rammed the tip of his broomstick into Harry's ribs. Undaunted, Harry still wrapped his fingers around the squirming little ball, and fell, head over heels, into the lap of Professor Sprout on the top box. 

The Griffindor stands went crazy, Hermione jumping up and down on Ron's foot, with Ginny and Anna screaming like banshees. Suddenly Anna stopped jumping, and held herself very still, Hermione let go of Ron's neck and turned to ask what was wrong. 

She shook her head, nothing was wrong, and spoke, softly, but Hermione was standing next to her and could still hear the words, "Goddess as you love me, let this not be my time" before rolling back her eyes and entering the trancelike state she usually spellcast from. 

Suddenly, an enormous explosion erupted from the Griffindor goal posts. Red and Gold sparklers rained down on the crowd. Another firework burst over the top box, showering the teachers, and not so incidentally Harry, with Griffindor Red and Gold. More fireworks exploded, showering the entire stadium, until Anna gasped out of her conjuring trance and swayed a little, light-headed from the effort of creating the fireworks.    

     As soon as she had her balance, or enough balance that Ron could help Hermione drag her down the stairs, the entire lot of them, Ginny, Hermione, Ron, and Anna clamoured down to the field. Harry, still reeling from his intense Blatching at the hands of Adrian Pucey, landed on the pitch amid much noise. 

It was a madhouse, people shouting and screaming, but Harry, Fred, and George somehow managed to find Hermione, Ron, Anna, and Ginny, the two twins sweeping up Anna and again bending her over for a doubly enthusiastic kiss, before Fred was spirited away by his girlfriend Angelina. Ginny had Harry by the waist, although Harry was grimacing from his cracked ribs, and Ron and Hermione were hugging each other and jumping up and down together, cheering. 

The crowd on the pitch thinned as most of the players had left for the lockers; Harry remained, as he needed to be seen by Madame Pomfrey because his ribs ached something fierce. After the mediwitch had performed the simple, but relieving Bone Fracture Restoring charm, Harry walked up to Anna, who was seated cross-legged on the very edge of the pitch.

"What's the matter?" He teased, "Don't want to be seen with me?"

"Oh no," she exclaimed, "The fireworks just made me a bit dizzy" she accepted his hand to help her up, and before she knew it she'd been pulled into a sweaty, panting, albeit slightly ginger, embrace. 

"So they were yours, were they?" he murmured into her hair, "Nice touch." 

"Thank you" she tucked her head on his shoulder and suddenly went stiff, her eyes wide, Harry stood up straighter and turned to look at what she was staring at. 

There, on the middle of the pitch and in full view of about half the school, were Ron and Hermione. Standing exactly where they started out and firmly locked at the lip.

"Well, well," she said, sounding satisfied, "Will you look at that"

"About time," Harry said, "They've been driving me nuts all year."

"Have they, then?" she grinned, "That'll keep 'em busy for a while, eh?"

  "Yes," Harry agreed, "I believe it will."  


	9. Gwendolyn the Magnificent

Disclaimer:

I do not pretend to own the Harry Potter world or any character within it: that right belongs to the eminent J. K. Rowling, to whom I most respectfully yield.

Neither do I pretend to be an expert on the early legends of King Arthur and the fabled Isle of Avalon. They belong to posterity and my imagination.

If, in writing, I offend someone, I apologize, but stand by my opinions.

I write this solely for my own amusement and for the appreciation of my audience. NO monetary gain whatsoever is intended.

I have no money, don't sue me, I'm not worth it, and there are bigger fish to fry.

Chapter Nine

"Hagrid, what's that?" Hermione pointed to a long, mucus-y trail of slime that led from the paddock that served as their classroom to Hagrid's wooden hut.

"Oh, that?" Hagrid said in a tone that didn't fool Harry in the slightest, "That's nothing, nothing at all, lemme jus' clean it up then an' we'll not see it again."

"Why don't I give you a hand with that?" Anna, shed of her trailing robe to protect the pristine white from the Care of Magical Creatures class, grabbed a mop and headed for his hut. "After all, you do have a class to teach."

"No, no thas' all right," Hagrid protested, but to no avail. For all his bulk, he couldn't move quite as quickly as the fleet young woman, and she had the cabin doors open, mop in hand, before he could stop her. In a large cauldron, on the fireplace, was a pot full of slimy, headless, tail-like, creatures which squirmed in a great bunch.

"Well, well" Anna said, amused, "If it isn't Manticore spawn. Hagrid, honestly, where so you get these things? As far as I know Manticore spawn are a class A Non-Tradable substance, and for good reason, there's no way to control them once they pupate. You ought to know that."

"Well, now," Hagrid blustered, "They're not all that bad"

"Don't tell me you have one that's already pupated!" Harry exclaimed, not quite believing his own voice, "Hagrid, they're impossible."

"Nonsense," Hagrid said briskly, "The trick with any beast is to figure out what calms them, all you've got to do is feed 'em some chicken livers mixed wit' a good shot of Ogden's Old Firewhiskey an' they settle right down." 

"You do have one that's pupated," Ron exclaimed, wide eyed and astonished, "Hagrid, where is it?"

"I don' know what you're talking about," Hagrid said loudly, "C'mon. Back to class now, all of you." Hagrid used one powerful arm to propel the four of them out of his hut and back to class, where they were supposed to be observing the antics of a set of Imps and Pixies. 

"He does have one," Harry whispered, "I know it!" 

"Where can you keep a Manticore?" Anna whispered back, "They're huge, not to mention they stink and are impossible to control. One won't fit in the castle."

"Yeah, right" scoffed Ron, "That's what we thought before we met Fluffy. That thing fit in the castle just fine."

"Fluffy?" asked Anna.

"A three headed dog Hagrid bought to guard the Sorcerer's Stone in our first year, real nasty creature. Hagrid kept him on the third floor corridor, on the right hand side. He stood over a trapdoor that led to the chamber." Harry clarified.

"On the third floor corridor, the right hand side, and a trapdoor?" Anna repeated, as if remembering something.

"Yes," Hermione, "We ended up there by mistake once, running away from Filch. It was kind of deserted, no classrooms or anything. Still is, as far as I know. No one really goes there."

"I should imagine not," Anna murmured, then shook her head and grinned. "Maybe we should send Malfoy in, give him another set of lumps to go with the first."

"Why don't we," muttered Ron, "He's being such a pain in the …"

"Ron" Hermione warned.

"…rear," Ron said defiantly, glaring at Hermione "Harry, you should have seen to it that he had to leave school permanently and not just for a week."

"Well it was a long and interesting week though, wasn't it?" Anna said smugly, while Ron and Hermione blushed. 

The week after the Slytherin vs. Griffindor match Ron and Hermione spent furiously not speaking to each other, as they dealt with the inevitable consequences of having shared their first kiss in such a public fashion. 

Eventually, with the return of a severely un-amused and very vengeful Draco Malfoy from the Hospital Wing, they finally faced up to the fact that they would have never done anything quite so publicly unless they really did have something going on between them.   

It was still a touchy subject, and mentioning the incipient relationship was enough to send them both into paroxysms of endless blushing and blustering, to no end of amusement from the assembled Griffindors, who'd watched them fight like an old married couple for years, and, most of all, from the other Weasleys', Ginny and the twins, who teased them to no end.

"Whoa there!" everyone heard Hagrid exclaim, "Will ya' look a' that!"

From the treetops drifted down, almost lazily, an extremely small and very blue dragon. She was no bigger than Harry's Hedwig, and indeed resembled more of a brightly winged lizard than any dragon Harry had ever met.

"Wicked," Ron breathed, "I never seen one like that!" Ron's brother, Charlie, was a Dragon Keeper in Romania. If there was any kind of weird dragon, Ron'd know about it from Charlie. 

"That's because they're not supposed to leave Avalon," Anna sounded annoyed, "Gwendolyn, what are you doing here? And quit that, you're as vain as Rosebriar."

The electric blue dragon steeped its lazy descent and folded up its wings, quite politely, on Anna's shoulder. It hid behind her head, sneaking into her hair. If it had cheeks, Harry would have thought it'd be blushing. 

The miniature dragon was truly magnificent; the tiny scales were cleverly joined, and darker on the back then the belly, which was as sky blue as Anna's eyes. The tail was as thorny as any Norwegian Ridgeback, but small, and a thin plume of smoke ascended from somewhere under Anna's tunic, which it was attempting to climb under.

"Ouch! Gwendolyn, stop it!" Anna squirmed, "Get out! Hagrid, help me here!"

"Oh aren't you the cutest thing," Hagrid's voice was as sickeningly sweet for this dragon as he'd been for his 'baby Norbert' "C'mere, c'mon now, Daddy Hagrid wont' hurt ye, come now"

The dragon obediently perched in Hagrid's enormous sheltering hands, wings slicked down, and head bobbing shyly. With the smoke stopped billowing, Harry could see that the little dragon was seated as neatly as any housecat, and holding one slightly singed bit of parchment.

"Gwendolyn you better damn well have a good reason for being here. Blessed be! You're not supposed to have left Avalon!" 

Anna lectured the dragon as though it could readily understand, hands on her hips and shaking a finger at the beast sitting in, and scorching, Hagrid's hands. It hung it head, tucked it between its forelegs, and made a little whimpering, squeaky sound. 

"I know," she said sympathetically, stroking the dragon's neck, "I missed you too, but that doesn't give you permission to just waltz about Britain in search of me" 

The dragon, Gwendolyn, gave an indignant chirrup and pulled the bit of parchment out in its mouth and stretched out its abnormally long neck. It handed the piece of parchment to Anna, before retreating back to the cover of Hagrid's hands. 

"Oh Goddess," Anna took the bit of parchment and read it slowly, "I take that back, lovey, you are supposed to be here. Are you sure this is accurate?" 

Gwendolyn said nothing, but arched her neck over Hagrid's hands with an expression that said very clearly, 'would I be here if it wasn't?' Anna sighed and tossed the letter into the sir, Gwendolyn letting out a plume of vivid blue flame, crisping the letter mid-flight. 

"C'mon then," Anna held out her arm for Gwendolyn to perch on, "Let me take you back up to the tower and tell the house elves what they're going to have to deal with." Gwen did nothing more than squeak and cower down further into Hagrid's hands. 

Anna sighed, letting her arm drop, "Just peachy," she muttered, "Of all the messenger dragons in the entire bloody world, I got to keep the bashful one." She grabbed her robe and slid it back on, adjusting the hood carefully, "Gwendolyn, come!"

The tiny dragon squeaked shakily, and then shot from Hagrid's hands to Anna's hood in a sudden flurry of blue. She chirped excitedly, hiding behind the waterfall of Anna's curls and inside the generous fabric of her hood. 

Unless you knew that a dragon was hiding there, the only indication of the animal was the occasional squirm and squeak from the lump in her robe. Ron walked behind Anna all the way back to the castle, staring intently at her back, as was most of the entire class. Malfoy was whispering excitedly to Goyle and Crabbe, no secret what he was scheming about.  

"Whoa, I never knew that there were such things as messenger dragons" Ron exclaimed for the tenth time, poking the lump and watching it squeak and roll away, "Where do you get them?"

"They are bred exclusively on Avalon," Anna explained, "And only leave rarely; we use them more for the hide, blood, and hearts, instead of buying the bigger varieties from the mainland. It's taken centuries of breeding to get them down to a useful size, but we've managed."

"Wicked" Ron exclaimed, "And her name's Gwendolyn?"

"Aye," Anna agreed with a grin, "and she terribly bashful. Got a scare once when a message she was delivering was sent across a real dragon's territory. It jolted her out of a year's growth and she's never quite got her nerve back." 

 Within an hour the entire school knew that Anna had a blue dragon that lived in the hood of her robe and there was a crowd a corridor wide that followed both of them from class to class. Gwendolyn never poked her head out of the hood, just squirming and carping occasionally.

Crookshanks thought that this new creature was a marvellous treat and followed Anna around the Griffindor common room quite intently. The only way she could persuade Gwendolyn to get out of the hood was to have Hermione settle Crookshanks in the dormitory and then spread out her robe on her lap in a kind of nest. 

The little dragon curled up like a cat and napped, letting little plumes of smoke out of her nostrils as she breathed. As soon as she calmed down a little, she could be persuaded to allow petting, although when Ginny touched her, she got burnt by the heat. Anna, with her body and clothing warded against flame, hadn't even noticed that her pet was toasty enough to give a decent burn.

Gwendolyn slept at night, hanging upside down like a bat from the rafters, and for the remainder of the term spent her days in Anna's hood. She did come out once, during potions, when the silence had convinced her that no one else was there. 

Snape, who had been watching carefully for an opportunity to take off points, roared, "Ten points from Griffindor and if I see that dragon again in my class it will be potions fodder!" 

Gwendolyn leapt out of the hood, quite terrified of Snape's voice, and pelted a blue fireball at the potions teacher. His greasy hair went up like tinder and still hasn't grown all back, but his protestations to have Gwendolyn as 'potions fodder' went unheeded because he'd been the one to scare her in the first place. 

As Christmas approached, the heat from Gwendolyn's body made the air steam a little around the hood, causing it to appear as though Anna was constantly aflame. No one complained about it, for they found out that standing next to Anna was a quick way to warm up after a long bout of snowball throwing 


	10. Christmas Break

Disclaimer:

I do not pretend to own the Harry Potter world or any character within it: that right belongs to the eminent J. K. Rowling, to whom I most respectfully yield.

Neither do I pretend to be an expert on the early legends of King Arthur and the fabled Isle of Avalon. They belong to posterity and my imagination.

If, in writing, I offend someone, I apologize, but stand by my opinions.

I write this solely for my own amusement and for the appreciation of my audience. NO monetary gain whatsoever is intended.

I have no money, don't sue me, I'm not worth it, and there are bigger fish to fry.

Chapter Ten

Christmas, for the first time since Harry had been at Hogwarts, was planned to be spent away from the school. Mrs. Weasley and Mrs. Granger had got together over the term and arranged to have a gigantic Christmas celebration at the Burrow. Anna had been invited, at the insistence of Mrs. Weasley and the twins, and was quite aflutter, for she'd never celebrated Christmas before. 

"Well, I live at Avalon," she protested when Ron had exclaimed shock over the news, "We don't celebrate Christian holidays. I celebrate Samhain, Beltane, Midsummer, and Midwinter, but not Christmas."

"Well you're just going to have to learn," Hermione insisted, and they'd spent a laughter filled afternoon at the Three Broomsticks, sipping butterbeer and trying to stuff Anna with as much Christmas lore as humanly possible. 

Harry, who'd never spent a Christmas away from Hogwarts, was a little unsure of how it was to go about, but Hermione had, and she took great satisfaction in bossing around everyone. 

For the holidays Hogwarts was deserted, even more so now than it had been at the height of the Chamber of Secrets hysteria. Three more black backed owls had floated down over the course of the week before the end of term. Two Ravenclaws and a Griffindor lost either a parent or, in one case, a sibling, to the Death Eaters. 

The celebrations had taken on a determined air; everyone was absolutely focused on making this a wonderful Christmas because there was no telling who would be next. Hermione had taken Anna and Ginny out shopping on the last Hogsmeade day before the end of term, they returned to the Three Broomsticks giggling like madwomen with large wrapped packages spilling over their arms. 

Anna's mirth was sorely tested, however, when Gwendolyn disappeared the night before they left and returned in the morning with another little bit of parchment. Anna spent the entire morning closeted with the Lady Raven after that message, although she flat out refused to tell anyone what it contained. 

Hermione let it slide, surprisingly because she normally demanded information out of everyone, but Harry was determined to find something out and badgered Anna so badly that Gwendolyn took a swipe at him for annoying her out of a nap. 

The train to Platform 9 ¾ was quiet, or as quiet as a holiday train could be, the twins grabbed Anna and sandwiched her between them, muttering all sorts of things about 'profits' and 'overhead' and 'inventory'. Gwendolyn hung from the ceiling like some bizarre sort of living heat lamp, and Hermione and Ron, finally having gotten over the awkward stage of their relationship, were cozied together Ron playing Exploding Snap with Harry, and Hermione, as always, reading. Ginny was taking care of Crookshanks, who every once in a while tried to scale someone in an attempt to catch the dragon hanging from the ceiling. 

Mrs. Granger greeted everyone at the Kings Cross entrance to the Muggle world. She had one car; Mr. Granger drove the other, and between the two of them managed to get everyone in and all of their belongings packed with a minimum of fuss. Harry strongly suspected that Mr. Weasley had magically enhanced the boot of both cars, because somehow the entire luggage, including Hedwig, Pigwidgeon, Crookshanks, and seven trunks, fit properly and with room to spare. 

Gwendolyn point blank refused to be separated from Anna, even for as short a trip as this, and in her excitement she singed Fred and George a bit as they crawled into the car. The drive to the Burrow was a merry one, if a little warm, as everyone tried to teach Anna Christmas carols, with all of them singing a different one at the same time and the little blue dragon sneezing every once in a while, lighting something aflame. 

It was a tight squeeze, fitting into the Burrow, but somehow the Weasleys, all nine of them, the three Grangers, Harry and Anna all managed to find a flat place to sleep that night. The girls all got the largest of the children's rooms. Bill, Charlie and Percy were all sharing the one at the top. Fred and George got their room, and the Grangers slept in Ron's. The Weasley's, of course, had their own. That left Ron and Harry to share the sleeper sofa in the living room with a very anxious dragon, Crookshanks, and several, very nocturnal, owls. 

Something woke Harry, who'd never been an easy sleeper, and he sighed, figuring it was, again, one of Crookshanks's attempts to scale a wall in pursuit of Gwendolyn. He rolled over and was on the verge of sleep when he heard a small, but distinct sniffle.

"Hello there?" Harry asked softly, not wanting to wake Ron, "Who is it?"

"I'm sorry," Anna apologised, "I didn't mean to wake you. Gwendolyn was just getting lonesome, and I needed a bit of fresh air, that's all"

Harry rolled over, to look at the direction the voice came from, and immediately decided that Gwendolyn wasn't the only one who'd got lonesome that night. 

Anna was standing by the sliding glass doors, looking out on the snow in the garden, in her nightdress and one of ether Hermione's or Ginny's black Hogwarts robes. Her eyes were shining suspiciously in the moonlight, and Harry suspected she'd been crying.

"I understand. There are a whole lot of Weasley's. It can get to be a bit much sometimes." Harry rolled out of bed, oblivious to the fact that his boxers were probably not the best choice of attire for running about the Burrow at night. As the cold air hit his skin, he shivered, uncontrollably.  

"Here," Anna offered, holding up the miniature dragon, "She won't singe, I promise." Gwendolyn beat her wings a few times, and landed on Harry's shoulder, spreading her wings over his back, and warming him considerably. 

"Thanks" he looked at the young woman in front of him seriously. He wasn't ignorant to the occasional tugs of his teenage hormones, but somehow this night, with Anna illuminated by the moonlight and tears, she the most beautiful he'd ever seen her. 

"What's wrong?" Harry asked, reaching out to take her hand, a gesture that seemed to surprise her, and stroking it softly. 

"I can't tell you," she said, reluctantly, as though the admission hurt, "I'm sorry"

"The letter," he acknowledged bitterly, "whatever that was."

"We've had this discussion before, Harry, I don't want to argue with you, not tonight." She looked away, "Please"

"Alright," he agreed easily, for some reason not wanting to argue tonight either, "Are you Ok? You look a little…sad."

"I'll be fine," she dismissed, turning her back to him, hiding tears. She'd spent all day happily wallowing in the camaraderie of the Weasleys and the Grangers, and Harry. 

It was something she was unaccustomed to, most of the people on Avalon, where she'd spent all but the smallest portion of her life, were at the very least twenty years old, most much older, and not much in the way of fun company for a young child. She loved them all very dearly, but it was still different.

 She'd not missed it when she'd never known what she was missing, but somehow the poignancy of the night, everyone cramming together to celebrate, just activated her tear ducts. 

Harry could tell, from the thickness in her voice and the slight shake in her shoulders, that she was still upset. He took a chance and stepped up behind her, placing hands lightly on her shoulders. 

"I don't think so" he rubbed through the nightdress and the old Hogwarts robe, "I think you're upset and need a shoulder to cry it out on and I think I know just the guy."     

 She gave in, turning around and snuggling into Harry's arms. Awkwardly he embraced her, patting the nearest available body part, her back. It was an unfamiliar place for him to be, no one had ever really been affectionate with him before, except Ron and Hermione. 

Anna was not Ron or Hermione.

"I'm just indulging in a bit of a pity party," she murmured, "I've never had a Christmas celebration and I'm feeling a little down."

"I really never had one until I came to Hogwarts either," Harry shared, "It was a bit of a shock for me too." He felt her rubbing her hands up and down his chest, rubbing against the fine curly hair, a sensation that was not at all unpleasant.

"And they get on me for walking about without a shirt on," she muttered, amused, and radiating something like affection but more intense, "I must say, you look a good deal better than I, with no nasty looking writing all over."

"It's not nasty," he protested, "You look very pretty, I've seen them." When she gave him a disbelieving look, "You are too pretty!" 

She looked at him, he looked back at her, and it seemed only natural that at some point their faces would get closer together. They kissed, lightly, then a little deeper as she relaxed into him. He gently nuzzled her cheek, she wrapped her arms around his waist, and they hugged like that for a long time.  

 "You better get back to bed," Anna finally said, "you'll freeze"

"Worse ways to go" he muttered, squeezing her slightly, "Besides that, you're pretty warm, yourself."

"And what if Ron wakes up then?" Anna asked.

"What if?" responded "How many times have we caught Ron and Hermione going at it? Won't bother him at all."

"I need to get back to bed, Harry or I'll not be fit to decorate tomorrow," Anna said, though making no move to let him go. "And I'm told that's the highlight of the season."

"No," Harry disagreed, "the highlight is the presents." He grinned, letting her go and stepping back, "You'll be alright then?"

"Peachy" she grinned, and kissed him lightly on the nose, before scampering off, up the stairs, and back to bed. Harry shook his head, smiling, and twisted to try and see the electric blue dragon that was still perched on his shoulders. 

"Well are you going to go back to bed, Gwen, or am I going to stand here all night?" Harry asked her. 

The dragon obliged him by taking off, and settling on the plaster ceiling above his bed. Rubbing his shoulder slightly, for all that Anna promised that Gwendolyn wouldn't singe he was still a little toasty, Harry climbed back into the sleeper bed. 


	11. Ooops!

Disclaimer:

I do not pretend to own the Harry Potter world or any character within it: that right belongs to the eminent J. K. Rowling, to whom I most respectfully yield.

Neither do I pretend to be an expert on the early legends of King Arthur and the fabled Isle of Avalon. They belong to posterity and my imagination.

If, in writing, I offend someone, I apologize, but stand by my opinions.

I write this solely for my own amusement and for the appreciation of my audience. NO monetary gain whatsoever is intended.

I have no money, don't sue me, I'm not worth it, and there are bigger fish to fry.

Chapter Eleven

Anna came back down, on Christmas Eve, resplendent in violet velvet. Mr and Mrs Granger had given in to Hermione and Mrs Weasley, and donned wizard's robes of lime green and pastel blue, though they looked a bit awkward. Ron wore his, although they were maroon and he grumbled constantly. 

The only real wizard's apparel that Harry owned, besides his school robe, were his bottle green dress robes. He put them on, over some thick corduroy pants and the Griffindor jumper that Mrs Weasley made him a few years ago. The other Weasley were all decked out in an eye blinding variety of clothing, but somehow they all seemed to match. 

The purpose of this quickly became apparent, as, the Lovegood's, and the Fawcett's, the Weasley's wizarding neighbours, all appeared in the yard with a magical sleigh, drawn by two multi-horned reindeer.  They were all going to pick a tree.

The magical tree farm was a truly eye opening place. Wizards of all age and station were haggling over trees that rained down snow on their branches, or glowed different colours in the right light. Some of them had little fairies and pixies already inhabiting the branches, others danced or sang Christmas carols. Suddenly Mr and Mrs Granger quickly became grateful that the robes they wore didn't mark them as outsiders. 

It was a humongous lot, half the fun of searching for the right tree was trying to find your way back to the sleigh. They dragged a good size tree, with fairies in the branches, back to the sleigh. The Fawcett's purchased a small, snow bedecked tree. The Lovegood's bought a large fir that sang carols and danced. Then they went back to decorate. 

"Fred! George!" Mrs Weasley shrilled, "Oh whoever you are, put that down this instant! My grandmother wove that angel; you'll rip it if you're not careful!"

"Not to worry Mum!" Fred or at least it sounded like Fred, cheerfully hollered back, "We fixed it! Look!" The angel now swayed and sang, off tune.

"Barking," Ron muttered, "Do the same thing every year and never get tired of listening to mum roar"

"Here you go Mr G," one of the twins, Harry couldn't tell which, gave Mr Granger a chocolate, "Have a go, then"

"No!" Hermione shrieked, well aware that the chocolate was likely hexed, cursed, jinxed, or otherwise contaminated. "Dad, don't!"

But it was too late; Mr Granger had consumed the treat. Within seconds he'd transfigured into a diminutive elf, complete with pointy ears, green suit, and stature. 

Anna laughed heartily, ignoring Mrs Granger's slight panic, "Well I see the Christmas batch of Transfiguration Tortes came out well."

"Aye," Fred grinned, "splendidly" 

Mr Granger, though slightly shell shocked, un-Transfigured a few seconds later. He took it good naturedly, though a little bedazzled by the sheer volume of magic that was thrown about. Mrs Granger needed a good slug of some very strong Eggnog before she rejoined the party.  

Christmas Day was as wildly wild as the day before had been. They all clamoured down the stairs at first light, apparently after some unfortunate incidents in past years first light was now considered the absolute earliest that one could be woken up. 

Anna had placed a remarkably strong Repelling Hex on the living room doors to keep out 'early risers' and no one could enter until everyone was gathered and she performed the counter-hex.

Bill took over the proceedings as everyone crammed into the living room to receive presents. Hermione and Ron shared one very squishy chair in the corner, Fred and George rattled about, never quite settling in one place, the Granger's and the Weasley's got the sofa, leaving Percy, Ginny, and Charlie to share the floor. Anna performed a spell she didn't identify and she and Harry lay, comfortably facedown, on a completely invisible cushion suspended from the ceiling, several feet above everyone's heads.

Everyone got one of Mrs Weasley's hand knitted jumpers, even the Granger's and Anna. Likewise Fred and George gave all a chest full of Canary Crèmes, Transfiguration Tortes, Ton-Tongue Toffee's, and a bottle of Morgana's Multi-coloured Follicle Fixer to everyone, to the chagrin of some of the parents present. 

Hermione and Ginny gave Anna clothes; of course, they were girls and liked to do those sorts of things. Ron got a Firebolt from his Mother and Father. The Granger's gave Mr Weasley a television set; it didn't really work with any of the cables in the Weasley household, but it didn't seem to faze him. They also gave out candies of every hue and flavour, sugar free, obviously, because they both were dentists.  

From Anna, Charlie got a handwritten book on miniature dragons, which he salivated over. Hermione went all gushy over a very battered copy of Moste Potente Potions, the same book they'd 'borrowed' from the school library during Second Year. She handed Harry a small golden wrapped present, blushing a little, and hiding behind the midnight curtain of her hair.

He opened it. It was a watch. Not just any watch, but a Tag Heuer, one of the most accurate, and expensive, watches in the muggle world. It had a silvery band and a red crystal. Harry pulled off Ron's old, non-functioning watch and pulled on the new one. 

"I, I, um put an Everlasting Energy spell on the battery and put it in a Waterproof, Shatterproof dip. You could go diving in the lake outside Hogwarts and it'll keep ticking." She grinned at him, shyly, "I hope you like it."

"It's wonderful!" Harry exclaimed, and wrapped an arm around her waist. Her hair covered her back like a blanket, from crown to hip, and he felt the silky strands tickle his arm. He was about to pull her closer, when a sudden popping noise below them made him jump.

"Anne! Anna! Morgana du Lake! Oh where in the name of the…" Raven, disheveled and desperate looking, Apperated directly beneath the suspended Harry. "There you are, lass! Oh for the love of the Goddess, run Anna! There's an emergency, we need ye now! Get your kit on, move child, MOVE!" 

She leaped down, it was a good ten or so feet, but she landed, catlike, on her toes. Anna thrust her hand into the air and shouted "ACCIO!"

From the upstairs a white blur of fabric raced down and surrounded her in a whirlwind of cloth. Her nightdress and dressing gown slid to a puddle on her feet and in their stead was a white outfit almost identical to Harry's Quidditch kit; short robe, breeches, boots, shin, forearm, and chest guards. The only difference, besides the entire bit being pure living white, was that a scabbard for a long broadsword lay empty on her hip.

"Harry!" she shouted as her hair twisted itself into a complex French braid and wound into a tight bun the nape of her neck, "Give me my wand!" 

It lay, almost forgotten, next to Harry on the cushion of air. He tossed it down, and as it fell it Transfigured from a simple mahogany and dragon heartstring wand to a shining opalescent bade, nearly three feet long. She caught it by the hilt, no mean feat, and sheathed it in the scabbard at her hip, with the smooth automatic gestures of one who'd done it a thousand times. 

Suddenly, looking at her, it seemed as though Anna herself had undergone a transformation. She went from a shy, slightly diminutive, sixteen year old girl to a capable, ready, powerful, woman. Her expression was that of someone ready for anything. She seemed…dangerous. 

"Oh my god," exclaimed Mrs. Weasley, breathless, "she's got…" In an instant the two women Dis-Apperated out of the living room with a loud pop. "Excalibur"

There was a sudden silence in the room. Everyone knew the legends about the Lady of the Lake and Avalon and the mystical blade Excalibur. It was said to lie in the bottom of the Lake, waiting until the moment Britain needed it the most. If that was now, then Harry suspected there was a lot more going on that he didn't know about. 

The living room fireplace cracked and spit, before bursting into flame. Dumbledore's face shimmered out of the coals. 

"Arthur, Molly, there's been another attack. We need everyone out here. Where's Raven and Anna?" 

"They've left," answered Mr. Weasley, "Does Anna really have Excalibur?" For a long moment Dumbledore looked shocked, as though he'd had no idea, then his face went slack, and weary. 

"Oh no." he whispered, "Blessed be. If Morgaine has indeed recast the blade that can never be broken, we are all in direst of straits."

"Anna's the most powerful witch in the world, Professor, and she's got Avalon on her side." Hermione declared, "Even at the height of his powers, Voldemort never dare attacked the Holy Isle. It's even more protected than Hogwarts. There's no way he could take it now, he's not at full power." 

"Miss Granger, I pray you are correct." Dumbledore sighed, "For the place he's attacked now is indeed Hogwarts. Molly, Arthur, follow me to the Great Hall. I fear we have some serious work ahead of us." He disappeared from the flames.


	12. The Return

Disclaimer:

I do not pretend to own the Harry Potter world or any character within it: that right belongs to the eminent J. K. Rowling, to whom I most respectfully yield.

Neither do I pretend to be an expert on the early legends of King Arthur and the fabled Isle of Avalon. They belong to posterity and my imagination.

If, in writing, I offend someone, I apologize, but stand by my opinions.

I write this solely for my own amusement and for the appreciation of my audience. NO monetary gain whatsoever is intended.

I have no money, don't sue me, I'm not worth it, and there are bigger fish to fry.

Chapter Twelve

The Grangers, Bill, and Charlie all banded together to make the rest of the day seem a little more normal, as though three of the occupants of the house weren't really gone and the clock on the mantle wasn't chiming with hands on the spot marked 'mortal peril'. Mrs. Granger needed to be calmed with a good shot of Ogden's Old Firewhiskey before she was able to cope with the news. 

They didn't open any more of the gifts; the excitement seemed to have palled. Bill got out the family cauldron, and mixed up some Restorative Draught, just in case anyone returned home exhausted.  

Hermione was fretting about the exact nature of the 'attack', fussing about curses, counter curses, and protections. She dragged out her copy of _Hogwarts__, A History and started muttering to herself in the corner armchair. _

Fred, George, Ron, and Harry all tidied, they picked up the stray paper and ribbon from the morning's jubilations. Then sat, fiddling with their opened presents until Bill shooed them out of the house. All on Firebolts, now, they sped back and forth, playing with Ron's new Quaffle. Half-heartedly, though, because every once in a while they'd swoop down and check to see if one of the missing persons had returned. 

It wasn't until nearly ten in the evening that Mr and Mrs Weasley returned, by way of Floo powder. Ron and Harry were in the living room, playing chess by the fire.

"Mum! Dad! What happened? Are you alright?" Ron shouted, "Bill, Charlie, Everyone they're back!" In his excitement he knocked over the board, hardly noticed by Harry, who was jumping up as well.

"Where's Anna?" asked an ashen faced Hermione, who'd been sitting in the squishy chair, reading. 

"She still out there," wheezed Mr Weasley, "bless her soul. That young woman is… incredible. She's done more than the dozen of us put together and she's still at it. " 

Bill ran up with a cup of his Restorative Draught, which both parents avidly drank. "What happened?"

"Someone set off an explosion in the dungeons, in the potions classrooms, the whole lot of them went up like tinder, there were fumes everywhere." Mrs Weasley said tiredly. Professor Dumbledore popped out of the fire behind them, looking every one of his many years.  

"Luckily enough that there were no students down there, I was holding the morning festivities in the Great Hall instead of the dormitories because there were so few people." He sighed, accepting the Restorative Draught form Bill with a grateful nod.  

"Officially" Mr Weasley gave everyone a very stern glare, "There was an accident with an experiment that got out of control in the potions room. The dungeons will need to be fumigated, and everyone will get three days extra vacation. Nothing else happened." 

"Unofficially someone used an Expilare curse didn't they?" Hermione said quietly. "Right, Professor?"

He went suddenly very still, and the room descended into silence, "Pray tell, Miss Granger, how you came to that conclusion."

"Well," she shifted on her chair uncomfortably, "You can't Apperate or DisApperate on the grounds, the Floo network is only connected to the Great Hall and the Teacher's Common areas, and you can't scry, therefore you can't see into the castle to plant something in that way."  

She closed her book, and folded her hands on her lap, "The only other way to get something into Hogwarts without being able to see what you're doing is by using that which you already know is there, like potions ingredients. They're always in the student's cupboard, there is always the exact same amount of each substance, and every one is in a precise order."

She spread out the hem of her robe to illustrate, "If you know that there is monkshood, belladonna, and crushed dragon fang here, here and here," she pointed to three spots on her hem, "The you don't need to see when you mix them together." She closed her eyes and folded the robe together so that all the spots touched. 

"Voila," she said opening her eyes again, "I'm willing to bet that whomever it was mixed the two ingredients ahead of time and then used the Expilare curse to mix it into the third."

"Miss Granger, how long did it take you to determine that?" Dumbledore asked, seemingly intrigued.  

"About an hour," she acknowledged, a little embarrassed, "It would have been quicker if I'd known that it was in the dungeons to begin with, but it really was the only place to do it anyhow." 

Professor Dumbledore took off his spectacles, and rubbed the bridge of his nose, shaking his head wryly, "Hermione, it took a dozen experienced and trained witches and wizards nearly all day to arrive at that conclusion, and they had the entire facilities of Hogwarts for reference and knowledge of the exact location and the type of attack. It took you an hour, with only a market copy of this," he held up her book, _Hogwarts__, A History, "to guide you."   _

Everyone looked at Hermione, stunned at Professor Dumbledore's revelation. She bowed her head and blushed, more than a little discomfited to be put on the spot. 

"It only made sense," she mumbled. 

"You are indeed one of the smartest witches, I believe, to ever have come out of Hogwarts, Miss Granger," he smiled in a very fond, grandfatherly manner, "and I'm very proud to have the privilege of instructing you."

Ron grinned, as if it had been he who'd discovered what Hermione had done before anyone else, and scooped her into a rib crushing embrace. Professor Dumbledore smiled and returned his teacup to Bill.

"I must go," he spoke quietly, "you companion, Anna, is still quite hard at work trying to determine precisely who committed this offence. I fear she will not be returning to you anytime soon, the Priestesses are quite adamant about her presence." 

"Professor," Harry asked, summoning up the courage to face the question, "Why do you let them do that to her? They're going to kill her; she can't take this kind of work for long, nobody could."

He sighed, shoulders sagging, and for the first time in Harry's knowledge Dumbledore looked helpless, "There are a few things in this world, Harry, that even I cannot accomplish. Thwarting the will of Avalon is, I believe, the first and greatest." He looked sorrowed at the admission. 

"There is an ancient power there, far greater than anything else in the world. There are witches from all over the world that petition for years to be allowed the privilege of becoming a novice at the Shining Gates." He bowed his white head, acknowledging, if nothing else, the history.  

"I too, believe that the discipline imposed on her is harsh, but I have no way of knowing if it is indeed truly necessary. I am not an initiate of the Holy Isle." He put a comforting hand on Harry's shoulder, "Rest assured Harry, they would not risk her life indiscriminately. Her abilities are too valuable."

Harry nodded, not really comforted, but realizing that there was little anyone could do. They had no influence on what the Priestesses did with Anna. That was in the hands of other people.

Mr and Mrs Weasley tried to make everyone more comfortable by opening the remaining presents, but they were too tired to get into the spirit of things, and Mr Granger ordered them off to bed almost as soon as Dumbledore left. A small stack of gifts, all addressed to Anna, lay untouched under the sparkling tree. 

All though Boxing Day and the day after, Harry and the others waited on word of Anna's condition. At last, two days before New Year's Eve, the fireplace in the living room roared into life. Someone was preparing to come through by Floo.

Everyone rushed to get near, but Bill and Charlie held them back so that she'd have room to move. It wasn't Anna who came through, but a bedraggled and thoroughly exhausted Druid, who reached back and grabbed hold of something on the other side of the fire. 

"Back up, mates," he said in a thick Aussie accent, "Comin' through" 

He tugged, and at first twin handles, then the coal black hair of Anna, came though the fireplace. She was on a stretcher, and completely motionless as a second Druid popped though, carrying the other end. 

"We need place to put her" said the other Druid, an Asian man with short cropped black hair and a whippet, lithe physique "She very tired"

"Over here," instructed Mrs Weasley, and she guided them to the widest space possible, the kitchen, "For now, at least" 

The Druids placed her carefully, and straightened, handing Mrs Wealsey a full leather bag, "Here are the supplies, increase the dosage by half every day. If she won't wake up within the next say, seventy hours, give her this."

He removed a vial from inside his tunic pocket, and held it out. The contents shimmered; it was a silvery-blue substance. Ron was the first to recognise it.

"That's Unicorn blood!" he exclaimed, "You can't give her that!" 

Mrs Weasley's face hardened, "I most certainly will not give her anything of the sort. Everyone knows what'll happen."

"It will save her life, for if she does not wake by then she will be on the brink of never waking." the Asian Druid said. 

"Wait a minute" interjected Mrs Granger, "Why can't you give her the stuff? It looks pretty harmless to me, and if it'll save her life…"

"But it won't," said Harry, finally finding his voice and remembering a long-ago lesson, "Drinking Unicorn blood will bring you back, even from the very edge of death, but her life will be wrong, a half-life, a cursed life. She'll have killed something so pure for such a…thing, that it's probably better if she did die." 

"Why are you doing this?" Mr Granger asked, angrily "Hasn't she done enough for you already?"

"If it comes to it, then others will already have gone to their gods in the meantime," the Aussie said wearily, "We'll have nought left but her. You'll do it, woman, and we'll not leave this house 'till we've your sworn oath on it, that's a promise." 

 Mrs Weasley looked at the thin vial, seemingly harmless, "I don't like it," she said at last, "but…"

"Molly, no, you can't!" 

"Arthur, damn it all, we've little recourse left if Avalon can't resolve this. You remember what Albus said, we must cooperate with everyone instantly or all will swiftly be lost" She took the vial, rolling it between her fingers. 

"Go then," she told the Druids, fixing them with a stare that spoke volumes about where she'd like them to go, "and pray I never see you again"   

  They bowed and disappeared into the flames of the fireplace. Harry looked at the thin vial, holding both life and eternal damnation, and realizing for the first time, just how desperate was the struggle against Voldemort. 

His friend, and maybe more than friend, was lying as though dead in the Weasley's kitchen. The last recourse was already there, and Molly Weasley, the most loving and caring person he'd ever met, was ready to use it, even at the cost of Anna's eternal soul.        


	13. Recovery

Disclaimer:

I do not pretend to own the Harry Potter world or any character within it: that right belongs to the eminent J. K. Rowling, to whom I most respectfully yield.

Neither do I pretend to be an expert on the early legends of King Arthur and the fabled Isle of Avalon. They belong to posterity and my imagination.

If, in writing, I offend someone, I apologize, but stand by my opinions.

I write this solely for my own amusement and for the appreciation of my audience. NO monetary gain whatsoever is intended.

I have no money, don't sue me, I'm not worth it, and there are bigger fish to fry.

Chapter Thirteen

"Knight to E-6" Ron called out, from his squashy chair in the living room. 

He was facing Harry, who was seated on the sofa, pillowing Anna's head as she slept. It was New Years Eve, just past midnight, they were celebrating the New Year quietly so not to disturb her. 

Anna had, fortunately, woken up, of her own free will, that morning. She was still inclined to be groggy and slept most of the day away, waking only to eat and chat a little before going back under morpheus's spell.

The good news was that the Unicorn blood, given to Mrs Weasley by two gaunt Druids, lat unused, as she'd woken with enough time to preclude that final, drastic, step. Anna was woozy, but alive, and alive was what counted. 

Harry sat, pondering his next move on the chessboard; his two bishops and his queen side castle were trapped by an enthusiastic knight and several very violent pawns. Then, unexpectedly, one arm clad in a red Weasley Christmas jumper, snaked out and snared Harry's bishop. It squiggled, not anticipating being lifted off his feet. 

"Check" Anna muttered, yawning, and shifting on Harry's legs. The bishop snarled at being unexpectedly usurped, but happy at his windfall. 

"Hey, didn't know you were awake," Harry grinned, "Though, you do realise that I really _was _going to do that"

"Right," said Ron sarcastically, "I think that's illegal, helping him." 

"Oh let it go, Ron, honestly, you win half the time anyhow" Hermione, sitting on the opposite end of the sofa. She had Anna's legs propping up her book, and shared her lap with Crookshanks.

 "How are you doing?" she asked Anna.

"Alive," Anna grunted, "Doesn't hurt, thank the Goddess. I'm good." 

Harry curled a finger around one of Anna's curls, they were like a blanket, crisping around her shoulders and settling right around her waist. They were silky, very fine, and clouded around her head like a halo. Her eyebrows were the same fine silky hair, but thicker, almost connecting. From underneath them clear blue eyes focused on his own green ones, and he blushed, embarrassed to get caught staring.

She said nothing, tilting back her head, and closing her eyes again, exposing the thin line of fishes, inked magically onto her neck to protect her from overheating. They splashed and squirmed on their line. Like all things in the wizarding world, they moved independently of their owner's will.

"Oh good, you're awake," Mrs Granger burst, businesslike, into the living room where her only child was seated, reading.

 She looked worriedly at Ron when Hermione wasn't paying attention. The relationship between him and Hermione had gotten much closer in the time between the beginning of term and Christmas and it showed.

 Although both sets of parents seemingly took it in stride, there was still a certain amount of tension when the subject was raised. Or when someone walked in the room and they hastily parted out of a compromising position. 

 "Here's the next batch of the medication. Help her up Harry, there's a good man." She held out a goblet, full of an unappealing khaki coloured liquid.  

Anna was still very weak, though lucky not to be dead, and needed every bit of help to attain a seated position. She took the goblet and smiled brilliantly at Mrs Granger, a trim, athletic woman who did not look the least bit like the mother of a sixteen-year-old daughter. 

"Gahhgh" Anna gagged as the last bit went down, "Nasty stuff it is. If I didn't know better I'd say Rosie was trying to kill me, not heal me."

"Rosie?" asked Mrs Granger, unfamiliar with the wizarding world. 

"Rosebriar, one of my…teachers." Anna replied, handing back the goblet. "This is her work, I could taste it."

"You take this that often, then?" asked Hermione.

"Unfortunately yes," said a melodious voice, from behind the sofa. Everyone but Anna jumped, not expecting anyone else to be in the house. 

The Weasley's, all the grown ones anyway, were all meeting with Dumbledore and others to plan for Voldemort's next move. Even on the holiday they couldn't let down their guard. 

Mr Granger had to return to his dental practice the next day, hence he left early in the morning to get there in good time. Fred, George, and Ginny had all gone to London to join an honorary party at Zonko's so it had been the four friends and Mrs Granger, alone in the house.

"Raven, stop that, really," Anna said admonishingly, "You know it scares them; they're not used to it. Or are you just trying to be mysterious?"

"Far be it for me to presume, _Lady_ Morgan," Raven emphasised, reminding everyone that Anna was not yet a full priestess, and that she must mind her manners. For a woman of obvious age, Lady Raven seemed as untouched by time as her young apprentice, but for the slight salting of her coal black hair.

Anna leaned back, into Harry's shoulder; grunting a little at the effort it took her to stay upright. Raven walked around, and offered a hand to her apprentice, pulling her painfully to her feet. 

"You're not recovering quickly enough," Raven muttered, absently, "It's usually only a day or so and you're back on your feet."

"They took considerably more than before," Anna said, through gritted teeth, walking out the pains, "and I held it for a longer period of time."

"Nevertheless," Raven said briskly, watching her, "It shouldn't take this long."

"Well _maybe_ it's because you've been draining her dry every night for the last three months," Hermione glared, heedless of the danger of scolding a priestess of Avalon, 

"No one else might notice, but I sleep in the same dormitory, she's never back until late and she sleeps like a dead woman afterwards. You can't keep doing this." She snapped her book shut, "You're going to kill her."

"You presume to lecture me on the making of a priestess?" Raven asked dryly, "And pray tell us from whom you've learnt your expertise, my child."

"I have the expertise to know that you're not going to have a Morgan much longer if you keep this up," Hermione continued, ignoring Raven's implied insult.

 "Be that as it may," Anna acknowledged, wincing as blood flowed back into her legs, "As long as I am here, we needs have the advantage."

"That's barbaric," Mrs Granger interjected, looking shocked at her daughter's information "I may not be a witch, but I know the abuse of a child when I see it."

"Really?" Raven drawled, "What do you think I am some kind of monster? I raised Anna from the moment she came to Avalon, soothed her nightmares, and bandaged her split knees. Do you, a mother yourself, think I cannot care to see my child wasting away like this?"

Raven rounded on Mrs Granger, not shouting, but locking eyes, in a deadly serious tone, "There is more at stake here than the fate of one girl, however much we may love her. She's priestess born and trained, as am I, as is the Lady of the Lake. We know our duty, even if you never realise the effort it takes to keep this clot of mud from dissolving back into the ocean. We give our lives, if the Goddess demands it of us, and many have. So count your blessings, Muggle, that we will stand no matter if this world falls down around our ears."

  "Raven" Anna chided, sounding more like a priestess than a 'child' "Remember yourself, and remember that I did not go into this unwillingly. I assume that the Mother has another need of me?"

"Aye," Raven said, gathering her dignity about her once again, "She wants ye back at Avalon, at least for a few days. If nothing else, it'll get the legs back under you."

"Very well," Anna replied, nonplussed, already standing straighter and more firmly, "but I'll not leave them undefended, the risk is too great."

"I'll stay, though a poor second," Raven offered, "nought will get through me."

"I thank you," Anna smiled, that same brilliant smile, "For everything."

"Go with the goddess, child, and have care." Raven pulled Anna into a close embrace, "I won't lose you now."

Anna nodded and disapperated out of sight, with a slight popping noise. Raven sat, lightly, on the sofa cushion Anna had vacated. 

"I apologise, Madame Granger, it was unbecoming of me to take out my frustration in that manner." She sighed, deeply, "It has been a long and hard week, but that is no excuse."

"That's alright," Mrs Granger said solemnly, "I know what its like to have your daughter at the mercy of something you'll never understand."

Harry looked, more closely at the small woman who was seated next to him. Then he asked "What's really going on out there?"

"He wants you Potter," Raven said wearily, not needing to specify who 'he' might be "and he's expending a prodigious amount of strength to achieve that. If it wasn't for you being here for Midwinter, outside of your normal routine, he'd have you already."

"He must know that this is the only place Harry could go," Ron said quietly. 

"Why hasn't he come here?" Hermione asked.

"Because the young woman you know as Anna, not as Morgan, is spending a ridiculous amount of her considerable strength keeping him away." she smoothed back her flyaway hair with an unconscious gesture, "At a hellish cost to herself."

"Can't you do something?" asked Mrs Granger.

"Nothing that we haven't already done," Raven replied, "It's a battle of sheer power at this point. Avalon will win, there can be no doubt of that, but he's resorting to methods even we hesitate to follow."

"What do you mean 'methods' ?" asked Harry, suddenly very frightened.

"Blood, sacrifice, torture, anything that will give him power. There is considerable power that comes from the spilling of blood, young Potter, and he has no scruple in exploiting it." She responded, absently plucking ginger cat hairs from her pristine white habit. 

Raven looked him pointedly in the eye. "Even in Avalon, where we shun no path, however difficult, the Lady of the Lake will not ask a priestess to give the Final Gift. It is too much a burden to be borne unconsenting." 

She raised her eyes to the ceiling, "Thank the Goddess that the last to…" she stopped, her voice thickening, "…the last to give the gift that can never be repaid was in the days of Lancelet and Galahad. It was the very Morgan for whom my Anna is named. The one of the old Pictish lineage, called 'the fey'."

"Morgan le Fey," Harmione whispered, awed, "King Arthur's sister." 

"He who was crowned 'Arthur', whom you know as the High King of legend, we know by his given name, Gideon. But yes, they shared the same mother, Ygraine of Cornwall, who was Uther's Queen, and sister to the Lady of the Lake." Raven actually smiled, "You would like visiting Avalon, Miss Granger; the library of the Holy Isle is unparalleled."  

"But first," Mrs Granger interrupted gently, "You need to get to bed, school's not that far off, and you need to rest." 

"Will Anna be returning to Hogwarts?" asked Harry, anxiously.

"With any luck," Raven assured him, "If not, then, well…just pray, young Potter, that she has the wherewithal, its all that we can do at this point."     


End file.
